Dark Meat and White Meat (Us and the Dead)
by JasonBlake
Summary: Rick struggled to reload, The rifle's ramrod was stuck. The walker came closer, almost upon him. Rick discarded his gun and reached for his knife. CRACK! The walker's had snapped backward and it fell to the ground. Rick looked over his shoulder and saw smoke rise from Carl's hiding spot. His son's accuracy had saved his life. Again. Civil War AU. #Richonne
1. Chapter 1 (prologue)

**Note:**

 **Some characters in this story will have racial biases in the beginning that they will change as the story progresses.**

* * *

 ****March 1868****

Rick sat across from Shane on his front porch. Leaning back in his chair he took off his "Boss" hat and wiped his brow.

"How was your trip to Atlanta?" he asked his best friend.

"It was good." Shane said, he ran a hand through his thick black hair. "I swear that place is getting bigger and busier by the day."

Rick grunted. "You ain't kidding."

"People were saying Forrest was in town."

"Really?" Rick looked at his friend curiously, "Nathan Bedford Forrest?"

"Yep. Word is he's organizing the Klan."

"Well shit." Rick closed his eyes and let himself feel his exhaustion.

"I'm thinking of joining Rick."

"What?"

"I'm think I'm gonna join the Klan."

Rick opened his eyes and sat up straight, "That is about the dumbest thing I've heard you say Shane. Why do you want to join the Klan?"

Shane glared at him, "I think the real question is why you _don't_. We got Yankee Bastards occupying Atlanta, running our government. That son of whore Sherman burned our houses and farms from Atlanta to Savannah. He burned my _parents'_ house and you don't seem to care! You just want to sit on your small little farm and pretend that shit ain't going down when it is!"

"You think I'm not mad that we're not ruling ourselves anymore?" Rick demanded, "I fought in the war _just_ like you. But this Klan shit? It ain't gonna do anything. It's just gonna get people killed."

"Maybe not. Maybe it will work with Forrest running it."

"You really think that?"

"Yes. Maybe."

Rick nodded, "What are we fighting for then Shane?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what are we fighting for? What is the Klan fighting for? I joined the army because my state called on me to do so; because we were being invaded by hostile army. That's why I fought. That state is no longer calling on me to fight. That state surrendered to the blue coats and is no longer at war. So the only point in fighting now is vengeance, and all that's gonna do is get people killed. Didn't enough of that happen during the war Shane? Hundreds of thousands of our people died and we killed even more. Do you really want to add to that tally Shane? And get what in return? Some feeling of justice? It will just get worse Shane. It will just get worse."

Shane slumped back into his chair. "Maybe you're right." he muttered. Rick understood his friends desire to do something. The war had been devastating and Sherman's march to the sea had made things worse. Georgia's economy was in shambles and people now had to compete with the newly freedmen for jobs. "I won't join Rick." Rick snapped out of his reverie and looked at Shane. "You're right. I won't join the Klan."

Rick smiled, "Good." He stood up, "Come on inside. Lori should have dinner almost ready."

"I heard some of what you and Shane were talking about on the porch." said Lori as they starting undressing in their room. "Why don't you think the Klan can do anything?"

"The Klan is a disorganized mess." Rick told her, "It's just a bunch of ex soldiers bitter about the war. What have they done? A few lynchings here and there? Killing freedmen isn't gonna make anything better."

"But I heard Shane say that General Forrest is running it now. He's one of our best generals. Even I know that. The papers were constantly talking about his raids behind Northern lines."

Rick sighed, "You're right. Forrest was one of our best generals. That didn't stop us from losing now did it? We had Lee, the best general in the country and even he couldn't beat them. If Lee couldn't beat them when we had a standing army then there is no way that Forrest can pull victory out of the ashes now." Rick turned towards his wife who was now in her night gown, "We need to accept that we've lost Lori and we need to make the best of what we have. We need to do that for Carl."

Lori looked at him in doubt for a moment. Then she nodded grudgingly. They got under the covers and Rick slipped in behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled back into him. "I'm just angry about what they did." She said softly.

"Me too." Rick murmured, his eyes closing, "me too."

* * *

 **Note:**

 **A few of things I want to clarify.**

 **1\. At this point, three years after the Civil War had ended the Union military was still occupying the south and running the governments of various states. Over time the Confederate states would be let back into the Union and eventually the military occupation would end. That of course, doesn't happen in this story as the Zombie Apocalypse happens first.**

 **2\. I'm going to highlight political issues that caused the war including slavery and states rights. Ultimately I side with the Union when it comes to the war but I'm going to portray certain Confederate arguments in a positive light. Not all Confederates went to war to protect slavery, some went because they thought the Union was overstepping legal boundaries others such as Rick fought out of loyalty to their state. The most important issue was slavery of course and that is why I ultimately side with the Union. For a lot of these characters growing up they would have seen slavery as a norm. Even if you disagreed with it, it wouldn't be as forcefully horrific as it would have been for someone from the north coming to visit. Many characters in this story will slowly learn just how bad the "peculiar institution" was and one of the main themes is going to be the exploration of right and wrong done on both sides.**

 **3\. Right after the war the Ku Klux Klan would have been seen by the south as a resistance effort. A second rebellion if you will. What it became (or perhaps what it always was) were bitter southerners angry that blacks were no longer slaves. I mention this because I don't want anyone to think that Shane is such a racist that he just wants to go around killing ex-slaves. No he wants to believe they can still win and thinks the Klan's purpose is to fight back against north. He is still racist, or at least more biased than Rick is, but he's not that bitter.**

 **4\. Finally; while this story is going to explore the political and racial issues of the 19th century that is NOT the only thing the story is going to be about. The Zombie Apocalypse trumps everything and this story is going to be about people in that time frame dealing with them. The weapons are different the technology's different and people divided over race and politics will be forced to work together to survive.**


	2. Chapter 2

****July 8th 1868****

The wagon trundled down the road toward Newman. Rick and Shane sat on top of it as the two mules hauled them over the rough dirt.

"Thanks for given me a hand with this." Rick said to his friend.

"Of course." Shane responded laying back onto the bales of cotton behind them. "How much you think you're gonna make out of it all this year?"

"I don't know. Hopefully enough to keep the place maintained."

"Man I don't get you." said Shane, "If I had all that land I'd just grow cotton. With all the big plantations down on production that shit's in high demand right now."

"Yeah but food's also in demand. I want to make sure my family's fed before I try getting rich." Rick chuckled, "Maybe if I was single like you I'd do it. Hell I'd tear down my barn so I could grow cotton there too." He pushed his hat back on his head.

Shane chuckled from behind him. "Why are you still wearing that stupid 'Boss of the Plains' hat? I figured you'd have gotten rid of the ridiculous thing by now. You look like a Texas cowboy."

"Hey don't go insulted my hat. It's practical, it may not be popular Georgia yet but it will be."

Shane just shook his head grinning. "Hey" he said seriously, "why aren't you bringing Carl with us?" He asked, "He's old enough to start helping out on these trips."

Carl had asked Rick that same question the night before. He had wanted to come with his dad and see the town. "I can do most everything else on the farm dad." The eleven year old had said, "Let me help you with cotton sale."

"Selling cotton isn't normally part of our farming son." Rick had told him, "By the time you're grown up running your own farm you won't need to worry about it." He gave Shane a different answer.  
"This country still on edge Shane. The Klan is killing people; blue-coats are crackdown on the Klan... I want keep Carl from all that. Keep him safe. For as long as I can."

"You can't keep him safe forever." Shane told him.

"I know." Rick said half nodding to himself, "Maybe another year or two though."

The two men rode in silence and Rick was fairly certain that Shane was dozing off on the cotton behind him. They were nearing the village of Bexar when Rick heard a woman's scream. "Whoa!" He cried. Shane shot up straight as the mules came to a stop.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"I'm gonna find out." Rick told him hopping off the wagon. He drew his 1860 colt and Shane reached behind their seat and pulled out his Enfield rifle before joining Rick on the ground. They crept through the trees toward the town both of them priming their weapons as they went. On the other side of the trees was a small clearing and in it stood six men and with them was a Negro woman and boy not much older than Carl. Both of them were tied and gagged and above them two nooses hung from tree branches.

"Those are Klansmen." Shane whispered.

"Yeah." Rick responded. Two of the men were dragging the woman toward one of the nooses. The back end of the rope was tied to a horse ready to charge and hang the woman at a single command. Rick cocked his pistol and stepped forward.

"Rick don't!" Shane whispered forcefully. Rick ignored him. "Goddammit Rick _stop!_ " Rick stepped out of the clearing.

"Let the woman and the boy go." The men turned and looked at him. They were a rough looking lot, and they were all armed.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them demanded.

"Doesn't matter who I am. You need to let them go."

"What are you? Some kind of Nigger lover?!" The man spat.

"You're gonna let them go or I'll have to shoot one of you." Rick said. They looked around at each other. The one who appeared to be the leader spoke again.

"Yeah that's not gonna happen _traitor._ " He reached for his gun. Rick pulled the trigger. The man stumbled backwards and Rick cocked his gun again and shot at another one. The sound of multiple gun shots echoed through the air and Rick's vision suddenly went dark. The last thing he remembered was hitting the ground.

* * *

 **Notes:**

The "Boss of the Plains" hat was the first version of the famous "Cowboy Hat". It was invented by John B. Stetson in 1865. It became very popular in the west bu it's popularity in the rest of the U.S. was minimal. I've included it in this story as replacement to Rick's Sheriff's Deputy's hat in the show.

I have a particular fascination for Civil War weapons and will be explaining them more detail later in the story. In this chapter Rick carries an 1860 "army" colt, the most popular side arm in the Civil war. Shane meanwhile has a 1853 Enfield, a British made rifle popular among Confederate soldiers. Like I said I'll be explaining these and other weapons in more detail in later chapters but if you're interested in looking them up yourself you're welcome to do so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for the reviews everyone! I honestly didn't know if I was going to get any feedback and I certainly didn't expect any this early. I hope you guys enjoy the story going forward. I know I'm enjoying writing it. :)**

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Rick opened his eyes. "Shane?!" he asked frantically "Shane?! Are you okay?!"

"Shane isn't here." the black face of a freedman appeared above him. Rick blinked in confusion.

"What do you mean Shane isn't here?" he asked.

"You've been asleep for a long time."

Rick struggled to comprehend what had happened, "How long have I been asleep?"

"Over a month."

Rick panicked, "How is that possible?!"

"You were shot in the head. Or grazed, a quarter inch to the right and you'd be dead." Rick raised his right hand to the side of his head. "The wound has closed up." the freedman told him, "But you haven't so much as opened an eyelid since it happened."

"How am I alive?" Rick asked, "I should have starved by now."

The freedman grabbed something off a table next to them. It was a funnel attached to a rubber hose. "I've been feeding you with this. You've been living off of a mix of eggs and milk for the last five weeks."

Rick stared at the contraption and looked back at the man holding it, "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Morgan. It was my wife and kid who you tried to save."

"Are they alive?" Rick asked suddenly remembering exactly why he had been shot, "What about Shane? What happened to him?" he tried to sit up.

"Slow down." said Morgan pushing him back down on to the bed. "I don't know what happened to your friend. I was in the woods waiting for a chance to rescue my family when you showed up. After you got shot someone in the woods fired at the men but he only one shot off. Five of the Klansmen chased him into the woods. They left one to watch my wife and son. I shot him and cut them free. That's when we saw you were still breathing. I would have followed and helped your friend out but I figured we should get you to Newman for a doctor. So that's what we did. My guess is your friend figured you were dead and made a run for it."

Rick took a deep breath and nodded. He was silent for a moment. "Thank you." He said, "For saving my life."

"You saved my wife and son." Morgan, "For that I am in your debt. I just hope that your friend Shane didn't die as a result."

"Shane's tough, and he's smart. He's alive."

Morgan didn't respond to that; instead he said, "What's your name friend?"

"My name's Rick Grimes."

"Well Rick, as soon as you're ready you can go ahead try to stand up. We'll get you to the kitchen and I'll fix you some food."

It was only when he stood up that Rick realized how weak he was. He was able to get himself to the kitchen though and sat down as Morgan began to prepare some kind of meal. Rick suddenly had more questions.

"Why am I not at the hospital?"

"The doctor had to leave." Morgan said without turning around.

"Why did he have to leave?"

Morgan handed him a plate with meat and bread on it along with a cup of milk. "Eat. I'll explain everything once your stomach is full." Rick wolfed down the food. After he finished his second plate Morgan motioned for him to get up. Feeling stronger Rick followed his host to the door. Morgan handed him a pair of boots, "Follow me." he said. "Not long after you got shot the whole world went to hell." said Morgan, they walked down the street and rounded a corner. Rick gasped. There on the street lay nearly a hundred bodies covered in canvas.

"What the hell happened here?!" Rick demanded, "Please don't tell me the war has started again."

"No. Not the war. It's much worse than that." Morgan gestured toward the opposite side of the graveyard, "That's what happened."

Rick looked, a man was walking down the street. Except he wasn't really walking, more like stumbling, or shuffling. His arms hung limply off his shoulders and his head seemed to be cocked at an unnatural angle. The man turned, facing them, and that's when Rick saw his skin, it was gray as death.

"What in all of hell..."

"It's the dead." said Morgan. "They come back now. Unless you shoot them in the head they resurrect looking like that." Rick couldn't believe it. It had to be some kind of trick. The story was simply too fantastic to be true. "Watch." Morgan told him. He drew a pistol and pointed it at the walking creature and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered out of the man's chest and he fell to the ground.

"What the hell did you do?!" Rick demanded furiously.

"Look!" The gray faced man was getting up off the ground. The hole was still in it's chest and blood was puring out of it. It started to shuffle towards them now. Morgan shot it again this time in the head. It fell to the ground and didn't move. "Believe me now?" the freedman asked.

"How did this happen?" Rick was sitting back at the table in Morgan's kitchen. The man in question was sitting across from him.

"I don't know. Nobody knows. Just one day they were there and they were attacking people. Anybody that got bit or scratched turned into one of them. Nothing we could do about it."

"Is this happening elsewhere?"

"All over the country. Maybe further. We were getting telegrams from as far away as California saying it was happening there."

"Oh God." said Rick, "My family!" He stood up, "My family!" Morgan grabbed his arm.

"There's nothing you can do for them right now."

"I got to help them! I've got to see if they're still alive!"

"You will. But right now you're too weak. You'll fall over before you can get to them. Sit down." Rick sat down breathing heavily. "Where did your family live?"

"Glen-cove."

"Good that means they probably got the message to go to Atlanta."

"Atlanta?"

"Yeah. Well fort Mcpherson really. It's set up as a sanctuary. The U.S. government is protecting it."

"Blue-coats," Rick said, unable to keep to derisive tone out of his voice.

Morgan looked at him sharply, "Yeah bluecoats. Is that a problem for you?"

Rick took a deep breath, "No. If they're willing to keep me and my family safe I'm fine. But my wife may not have been willing to go. I need to check Glen-cove before going to Atlanta."

"We can do that."

"We?"

"Yeah. My wife and son went to Atlanta about two weeks after it happened. Most everybody else who was still alive did too. Doctor said it was too dangerous to move you so I stayed."

Rick stared at Morgan. "You let your family go on alone? Just so you could stay and take care of me?"

"My family's still alive because of you. So yes."

Rick, stared realizing the gravity of what Morgan had done for him. "So when do we leave?" He asked.

"Tomorrow. I've scouted around and found an abandoned farm with some mules and a wagon. You eat and rest up tonight I'll get the wagon tomorrow morning and we'll head to Glen-Cove."

"Alright. And Morgan."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For ya know.. saving my life."

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 **Let me know what you thought of this chapter in the reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone thank you so much for support so far!**

I **n the last chapter I posted I tried to put in a link to a map I made for Rick's journey so far. Turns out links aren't allowed on fanfiction *whoops* So what I've done instead is set up a Tumblr account and posted the map on there. If you want to see it you can go to Tumblr and type "JasonBlakeposts" in the search bar. _Don't_ actually hit search. For some reason if you actually hit search my account doesn't come up but if you just type it in I pop in the search bar drop down. I have no idea why. It will show up as "The Ricktatorship Series" by Jasonblakeposts. Let me know if you like the map and are interested in seeing more of them as the story progresses. If anybody wants to see more I'll make more.**

 **Now i'll respond to my guest reviewers!**

 **Guest2: I might bring in some Native American characters later in the story. If I did it would certainly add another dynamic to the story as the trail of tears happened in Georgia not long before the Civil war.**

 **Guest3: Thank you for the kind words :). I will definitely continue writing!**

 **Guest5: I've definitely considered bringing in historicao characters and maybe one or two will make a cameo. For most part though the story will focus on the characters from the show.**

 **I hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

"It was hard as hell getting a hold of balls and powder." Morgan said as the mules pulled the wagon down the same road Rick and Shane had traveled before Rick had been shot. "Everybody wanted some. Even those going to Atlanta wanted some." Morgan shook his head, "I had my wife Jenny hide the pistol I gave her. I didn't want her to go unarmed but I knew if people saw her with it somebody'd try to take it."

"Where did you get the Springfields?" Rick asked from where he sat in the bed of the wagon. He gestured to the two rifles in question laying next to him. They were set purposefully where either Morgan or Rick could reach them along with their respective bayonets.

"Found 'em in a couple of farm houses after everybody left."

"You know how to shoot them?"

"Yeah. I figured it out."

"You just figured it out huh?"

"Yeah. Amazing how fast you can learn something when your life depends on it."

Rick chuckled. They continued down the road a ways in silence, the only sounds the clopping of the mules hooves and the rattle of the wagon beneath them. "Can I ask you a question?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"Why did you save my wife and son? I saw the way you turned up your nose at 'blue-coats' so I know you aren't no southern Yankee. Yet you risked your life to save a freedman's family from the Klan. Why?"

"I never was for slavery." Rick told him, "I sure ain't for lynching a woman and a child."

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "So you're against slavery yet you hate blue-coats. How do you reconcile that?"

"I don't need to reconcile it." Rick stated, "I don't hate Yankees for being abolitionist. I hate Yankees because they invaded my home state, infringed upon my rights and pillaged and burned wherever they went." Rick paused. Morgan didn't say anything so Rick continued, "Ever since the revolution every state has had the right secede from the Union. I didn't want us to secede but we did and we had the right to do so. The Union had no right to force us back into it. They certainly had no right to burn peoples houses down and destroy their ability to feed themselves while they were at it."

Morgan stayed silent for another long moment before responding, "You know I'm gonna be honest with you Rick. I get what you're saying. Every state had it's rights and the Union army shouldn't have done what it did when it came to Georgia. But they freed my people and I don't care what rights they infringed upon or whose house they burned to do it I'm glad they did."

Rick felt anger rise in his chest at that statement. People he knew had lost their homes and livelihoods because of what Sherman did during his march to the Sea. Shane's parents had a house that didn't exist anymore because the damned general. Nevertheless he couldn't blame Morgan for thinking that way. To someone living under the yoke of slavery throwing that yoke off would have been worth any cost. "I understand why you feel that way." he said carefully, "I don't like it but I understand it."

"Good." Morgan told him, "So long as we're clear on that."

It was past noon by the time they reached Glen-cove. When they got there Rick took the reigns from Morgan and sped up the mules. Glen-cove was a small village but even it had been too populated for Rick's taste. His farm was out by itself past the borders of the settlement. He made his way there as fast as possible.

As the wagon neared his house Rick jumped off and ran to the door leaving Morgan to grab the reigns and bring them team to a halt. "Lori!" He cried, "Lori! Carl!" He threw the door open and rushed inside. "Lori! Carl!" He dashed from room to room. Each one was empty. Suddenly the front door creaked open. Rick whirled around in anticipation and stopped when he saw Morgan.

"They're not here are they?" The freedman asked calmly.

"No."

"Well don't worry they're probably safe in Atlanta." Morgan looked around the room. "This is a nice place. It's far away from other people. We should be safe here for a couple hours."

"Why are we staying here?" Rick demanded. "We need to get back on the road."

Morgan looked at him reproachfully, "Those mules have only got about five hours of trail left in them. Whether we start now or in two hours won't change how far we get before we have to stop for the night. You just ran them ragged getting here so I think we should give them a rest before we start up again."

"Okay." said Rick. Morgan was right of course. Mules, or horses or oxen, could only work so many hours in a day. To push them any harder was to risk them falling over dead in the middle of your trip. Despite that fact Rick was anxious. Morgan offered him some dried food but Rick could only nibble at it. The two hours took forever.

When they finally got back on the road Morgan took the reigns again. Rick figured Morgan didn't want him wearing the mules out a second time. Rick took his seat in the bed.

"My turn to ask you a question." Rick said to his companion.

"Yeah. What's your question?"

"When were you freed? Was it when Sherman came? Or after the war was over?"

"Neither." Morgan leaned back resting against the back of his seat. "My master freed me six years before the war."

"Really? What about your wife?"

"Met her while I was serving him he was kind enough to let me by her from him when I had enough money. He was a good master... as far as masters go."

"Yeah.." Now that he thought about it the information didn't surprise Rick. Morgan didn't act like a man who was recently freed. He carried himself too well. It was a barely noticeable difference but many of the former slaves freed after the war were still getting used to their own freedom. Morgan continued.

"I had to work for two years so I could afford her, but as a result my son grew up free." hus voice sounded choked, "That is what I am most proud of in life. My son grew up free..."

Rick couldn't help being moved by the way Morgan spoke, "I can't imagine what that is like." He said, "I would do anything for my son. To make sure he's safe and taken care of. What you did... that was very difficult for someone like you and to have pulled it off is something you should be very proud of."

"Yeah..." Morgan stopped too choked up to continue. Rick didn't push him. After a moment Morgan spoke again, "How old is your son?" he asked.

"Eleven."

"Mine's twelve. You know one thing the war didn't do was make it safer for us to live. Lynching happened but usually only to runaway slaves or accused thieves. Now we get lynched for walking down the street." Rick nodded even though Morgan couldn't see him. "Don't get me wrong I will be forever grateful that the Union came and freed my race but there area lot of things they could have done better." Rick didn't answer, there wasn't really much to say. The mules continued pulling the wagon up the road and the two men rode in silence.

It was late in the evening when they reached the town of Fayetteville. It was the seat of Rick's home county and more than half a dozen roads ran in and out of it.

"We'll push past this here town and find a safe place to spend the night." Morgan said in his soft, hoarse drawl. "We don't want to spend too much time here too many walkers are likely to be around in a town this size."

"Right." Rick agreed. Even if he and Morgan could find a house to hole up in the mules wouldn't be safe. Suddenly, as if he had heard Rick's thoughts one of the mules whinnied and Rick felt the wagon move under him as the animals tried to change direction.

"We got a walker coming up on the right." Morgan said warningly.

Rick poked his head over the side of the wagon just in time to see two more walkers appear around a corner to join the first. "I got 'em." He reached for one of the Springfields, "Are these loaded?"

"Yeah. Caps are in the bag next to them."

Rick grabbed the rifle and the bag in question. Opening it he pulled out one of the brass caps and half cocked his rifle. Rick primed the weapon placing the cap on the nipple below the hammer, then raised the weapon and pointed it at the closest walker. He cocked the rifle and pulled the trigger. A crack echoed in the air and white smoke discharged out of the barrel. The walker's head snapped backwards and blood splattered as it fell the ground. Rick grabbed the second rifle, primed it, cocked it and fired at the second walker. That one too fell dead. The third kept coming. Rick snatched a bayonet from the bed of the wagon and fixed it to the end of the rifle in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"I'm killing it." Rick informed him and leaped out of the wagon to charge the walker. Holding his rifle in both hands like a spear Rick ran at the shuffling monster and skewered it's head with a single blow. The dead walker slid off his blade and slumped to the ground. Rick was panting. After a moment Morgan pulled up beside him with the mules and wagon.

"You good?" Morgan asked him.

Rick took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"You know you could have shot it with your pistol."

Rick looked down at the colt still stuck in it's holster. "Oh. Right. I guess my army training sort of took over. I didn't carry a pistol until late in the war."

"Right." Morgan chuckled "I would have given you a hand if I had known you were gonna go all crazy."

"That's alright." Rick had his hands on his knees now still panting, "Next time though I'll remember the pistol and you can shoot the rifles."

"Sounds like a plan. Now hop back in the wagon before you fall over."

Rick complied. As they continued toward the center of the town he began to clean and reload the Springfields. Black powder was a messy business and if the guns weren't cleaned regularly the barrels would get fouled up and eventually they wouldn't be shootable anymore. So Rick went through the painstaking process of cleaning each gun before going through the painstaking process of loading them. His work was interrupted when the wagon came to a halt. He looked up at Morgan.

"Look." Morgan told him gesturing off to his right. They were at the edge of the town just about to start on the road to Atlanta. On the right side of the road was a sign, it read, "Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive survive." Below the words was a map and on the map a large red dot marking Atlanta. Above the dot in big letters was the word TERMINUS.

 **Whoa! Plot twist right? Actually not so much, please don't hate me...? Let me explain. When I first watched season four I was a little confused about the explanation for Terminus. It was supposed to be where all the tracks met right? But in my experience railroads tend to meet at cities and if a bunch of railroads met eachother then it would be at a rather large city. Yet Terminus ended up being a small place with a train depot. I thought it was some flimsy writing convenience. Well imagine my surprise when I discover that Terminus was actually a real place! Shocking right? Not only that but it was actually a place where all the tracks met just like in the show. The story behind it's rather interesting. In 1836 Georgia wanted to build a railroad to the American west, so they sent out an engineer to survey a route and decide on a place for it to end and where all the other railroads would meet it. The engineer did so and when he picked his spot he drove a stake into the ground that was marked "Terminus." In anticipation of the business the railroad would bring to the area a small settlement rose up around that stake. And that small settlement turned into Atlanta. Yup, Terminus was actually Atlanta. My guess is that when the show writers were coming up with the Terminus story line they decided to stick in a little bit of Georgia history while they were at it. Considering the time frame of my own story I simply had to give that a nod. So sorry again if you were anticipating Carl and Lori being cannibal lunch; that won't be happening (not yet at least).** **Anyway I hope you enjoyed that little antidote and please drop a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter. Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again everyone! Today's chapter is going to be a little different. We won't be focusing on Rick but instead we'll be getting a Carl POV! Carl was one of my favorite characters on the show but I did feel his character could have been handled better in some ways. As badass as he was on screen I thought he could have been even more so. So expect Carl to have some cool ass character development as the story goes along. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please leave a review to let me know how I did.**

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Carl sat on the back of an empty wagon and watched. He watched everything. Everything fascinated him. A month ago he was a sheltered child living on a farm miles away from the closest neighbors. That changed overnight. Shane had come back from Newman with the news that his father was dead and the body was missing. Three days later the Walkers came. Three weeks later Carl went from living on a quiet safe farm to living in a terrified ragtag camp.

There were dirty white tents set up in the middle with wagons and animals surrounding them in a ragged circle. The animals varied in type and size. Most were draft mules chewing on the rough mountain grass or lying down on the ground. A couple oxen were mixed in as well. There had been more oxen when they first arrived but they had been butchered for meat. Carl didn't expect the remaining ones to last long. Then there were the horses. Not many of those were around. Two large draft horses were pawing the ground off to Carl's right and a dark brown light horse was keeping them company. Carl's favorite horse though, was on the other side of the camp. It was a reddish brown light horse loosely tied to a tree. The beautiful animal looked like it wanted to go somewhere. Carl wanted to see it run. Shane had told him it was a mustang from the Comanche plains. Carl was in love with it. He continued to watch the horse as it gracefully pawed the ground snorting.

Eventually Carl turned is attention elsewhere. Everything about the camp interested him, the people in particular. As a kid who hadn't had much contact with the outside world the interactions between members of the group were novel to him. Particularly between those who were white and those of color. He noticed that the people of color were generally treated worse by the whites and the division of work reflected that. The colored people always did more work and were relegated the worst jobs. Carl hand't seen many coloreds in his lifetime. At least not that he remembered. He did remember being curious about them and that his father didn't talk about them often. All he said was that before the war the coloreds were mostly slaves and that after the war they were freed and because of that many whites hated them. Carl had asked his father if he hated them. His father said no the coloreds had the right to be free. That was as far as the conversation went however, and Carl's curiosity had hardly been satisfied.

Because of his lack of information Carl didn't really have an opinion on the colored people doing the nasty jobs but he did know he felt sorry for them. Nevertheless Carl noticed that the division of work didn't end there. Some of the white men did more work then others. For one person it made sense. Dale was older than the others. He spent most of his time doing light work and keeping watch. It was what Dale was doing right now in fact. He was sitting in his wagon which was parked on the high ground of the camp looking out through his spyglass. Other than the mustang Dale's wagon was probably the most unique thing in the camp. It was covered with a white cloth, the same kind of cloth used for the tents. In fact, Dale slept in his wagon which Carl thought was weird. The wagon was abnormally large and seemed to be curved from end to end. He figured Dale must be rather uncomfortable sleeping on a bed that wasn't flat.

There was one other man who didn't do much work, Ed Peletier. He only ever did work when Shane told him to but Carl noticed he would quit doing it not long after Shane was gone. Mostly he bossed the coloreds or his wife around. Ed was also the only person in the camp who dressed like the world hadn't turned upside down. He still wore his full vest, frock coat and hat that he kept relatively clean. Every other man in the camp was a work coat or dirty dress coat. None of them wore vests anymore. Even the women had stopped trying to look nice. Dresses were dirty and filthy and any decorations had either been removed or fallen off. Carl even thought he saw one of the women wearing trousers one night went he had woken up to take a leak. Yet Ed still wore his vest and frock coat as if he were somehow important.

Shane was the hardest worker in the camp, other than the colored people. He actually worked just as hard as the coloreds did, he just didn't do the dirty work. Despite not being appointed or elected Shane had become the de-facto leader of the group. Most people were afraid of him.

Carl's reverie was interrupted. "How you doing little man?" Carl looked down from his perch on the wagon. Shane was standing there to his right holding an ax in one hand and a couple of split logs under his other. His rifle was slung over his back.

"I'm good." Carl told him.

"Want to help me get this fire started? The ladies are ready to start cooking dinner."

"Yeah." Carl hopped off the wagon and landed on the ground. Shane smiled down at him and they began walking toward the center of the camp. As they passed through the tents and reached the large fire pit in the middle Carl saw his mom and a couple of the other ladies holding some buckets and pans.

"Hey ladies! What's for dinner?" Shane called out. Lori saw them and smiled.

"Some fish Andrea and Jimmy caught down at the lake." She told them.

"So Daryl's not back from his hunting trip yet?"

"No. I was worried he might be lost or hurt but Meryl said he often spends this long on hunts."

"Okay fish it is then." Shane responded. "Those damn Dixon brothers." he muttered to himself shaking his head. He was so quiet that only Carl heard him.

"What's wrong with the Dixon brothers?" Carl asked.

Shane looked up apparently surprised that Carl had heard him, "Ah nothin'. They're just wild and uncivilized. Not much better than the dang Indians."

"You don't like them?"

"Eh.. If I'm being honest they'll be good to have around with the world the way it is. You're right though, I don't like them." Carl nodded storing that information away in his brain as Shane showed him to light a fire. He wondered what his dad would have thought of the Dixon brothers. He wasn't here though and Carl couldn't ask him for his opinion. He would have to settle for Shane's.

* * *

 **Whooh! So there it is. My first chapter that wasn't Rick centered. A thousand points to whoever can guess what wagon Dale has :D. What did you guys think? Was Carl believable? Is he likeable? Let me know in the reviews. Thank you so much for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! Today is where the action picks up a bit. I know the first few chapters were a little slow. A bit of setting the stage, some exposition here and there, but this where things begin to start happening.**

 **I've made two maps for today's chapter. One of them shows the trip from Newman to Atlanta and the other is a closeup, detailed map of Atlanta where you can see where Fort Mcpherson is and the route that Rick and Morgan take to get to it. Once again you can the find the maps at my Tumblr page. Type in 'JasonBlakeposts' in the Tumblr search bar but don't actually hit search. My page will show up in the search drop down. It's called 'The Ricktatorship Series' by JasonBlakeposts.**

 **To my guest reviewer:**

 **I'm glad you liked Carl. He's going to be one of this story's main POV characters. And yes some thought was definitely put into this story :)**

 **I hope you all enjoy the chapter! It should be fun! :)**

* * *

Morgan guided the Mules into Atlanta at a careful trot. The ridiculous thing about Atlanta was that despite it being the fastest growing city in Georgia and the States capitol only two main roads went in and out of it. It was clear that most of the city's commerce had come by train. Rick was watching carefully from the back of the wagon holding one of the Springfield rifles over the edge ready to fire. He had given Morgan his colt as it was easier to fire while holding the reigns. On either side of the street buildings several stories tall stood empty and haunting. Their destination, Fort Mcpherson, was tucked away on the other side of the rail-road tracks and no where close to either of the incoming roads. Rick was becoming less and less sure that it was a good place to welcome survivors.

"Alright." Said Morgan quietly, "Once we get to the end of Foster St. here we're gonna take a left on Ivy St. Then once we've crossed the railroad tracks we'll take a right and from there it should be a straight shot to the fort."

"You'd think they'd have a lookout posted." Rick responded softly. "They should have cleared out the path to the fort and put fences along the roads. At least that's what I would have done."

"We're you an officer in the army?"

"Yeah. Non-commissioned. Corporal."

"And you think that's what the bluecoats would have done?"

"I don't know I didn't serve in their army. I have fought them though, and they're not idiots."

Morgan nodded, "Maybe they don't have the man power to do it. Or maybe they found some other way to keep the route safe."

"Maybe." Rick said. They reached the end of Foster St.

"Haw!" Morgan cried. "Oh crap! GEE! GEE! GEE!" Around the corner standing packed shoulder to shoulder was a crowd of walkers. As soon as they heard Morgan's voice they turned and started to advance towards them.

"Shit." Rick muttered. He swung his Springfield over the side of the wagon, capped the weapon cocked it and fired into the advancing herd. Morgan was clicking his tongue furiously trying to get the mules to move faster but he hardly needed to, the animals were just as desperate to get away from running dead as they were. Rick grabbed the second Rifle and fired into the herd again. He grabbed a cartridge from his pouch and ripped the paper open. He poured it into the gun ripped out the Minie ball and pushed it into the tip of the barrel. Then he whipped out the ram rod and shoved the bullet down the barrel against the powder. He primed the rifle again, cocked it and fired. The walkers hardly seemed to notice. Rick could load a Springfield rifle once every fifteen seconds which was faster than most; but that rate of fire would hardly do. What he needed was another twenty men. Or a cannon full of grapeshot. Nevertheless he reloaded the rifle and fired again. Maybe the falling walkers would trip up the ones behind them.

Rick had fired twenty shots before the wagon turned. "Haw! Haw! Haw!" Morgan yelled and the wagon swung violently to the left. About five seconds later the walkers appeared. The first ones overshot the turn and as they tried to correct their course the ones behind them pushed them forward.

"Make another turn Morgan!" Rick called. "One more I think we'll lose them!"

"Yeah! Hold on!" Morgan called back. Rick continued to watch the walkers but didn't fire. He might be able to hit one at that this distance but Morgan seemed to have the situation under control. About three minutes later Morgan made right turn. A couple minutes later they made another left. After that Morgan slowed the team down. The mules were still going faster than normal but they were no longer at a dead sprint. The walkers were no longer in sight.

Rick took a deep breath. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Were just north of downtown." Morgan told him. "We're gonna go north a ways where we can cross the tracks." Morgan continued, "Then we'll head south toward Mcpherson. We should get there in a few hours assuming we don't run into any more problems."

"How do you know Atlanta so well?" Rick asked him.

"I live here." Morgan replied, "I was only in Newman to do a job for a friend."

"Wow. I was luckier than I thought."

Morgan chuckled, "Yeah you were. Now keep an eye out. I don't want to be surprised like that again."

"Me neither." Rick agreed.

 _I_ t was nearly dusk by the time they reached the brick walls of Fort Mpherson. The 'fort' was a peacetime fort and as a result the the walls were little more than large glorified fences, plenty good enough to keep walkers out but not much help against a canon. Nevertheless Rick was worried. "There should be sentries." he whispered to Morgan, "Even if they didn't have scouts on the roads there should absolutely be sentries on the walls. Morgan nodded, he may not have been a soldier but posting sentries was just common sense.

"Yeeaw!" Morgan's voice was soft but sharp. The mules were tired but they sped up as Morgan directed them up against the wall. "Let's take a look." he said and stood up on his bench. Rick stepped up next to him and stopped old.

"Holyy _shit_!" Rick whispered. The fort was overrun. There was simply no other way to put it. Walkers swarmed the yard between the wall and the soldiers barracks. The door to the barracks was broken down and walkers were going in and out of it. Rick was horrified. There was know way to tell if his family was there or not. There were simply too many walkers. Morgan suddenly sat down and grabbed the reigns.

"We gotta go." He said urgently.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Rick, "Our families could be in there!"

"If our families are in there they are _dead_ Rick. If my wife managed to get away she would go to our apartment. She knows that's where I'd look so that's where she'd go. Maybe your family is there too. Even if they aren't you don't know where _else_ they might be do you?"

Rick looked at his friend blankly before shaking his head. "No I don't." He sat down on the bench next to Morgan and the freedman started the team up again. Amazingly Morgan managed to keep a clear head. The mules were exhausted and could only go so fast, Morgan didn't try to push them.

It was completely dark within half an hour and Rick had fetched a lantern from the back of the wagon. Morgan didn't seem to need it however as he made his way deftly through the streets. When they reached the building he lived in Morgan was the one who leaped out of the wagon leaving Rick to bring the mules to a halt. It didn't take much. The animals were ready to stop and collapsed as soon as Rick brought them to a halt. Rick was out of the wagon and running after Morgan Springfield in his hand. He caught up to his friend before he reached the door an together they entered the building and ran up the stairs. Morgan had Rick's colt out and he was shouting out to his family the same way Rick had. "Jenny! Duane! Are you there?! Jenny! Duane!" They reached the second floor and Morgan stopped. A door stood between them and the hallway. Morgan swung it open yelling, "Duane! Je-!" he cried and stopped short. There in the filtered moonlight stood a dark skinned walker with long hair. At the sound them entering she turned around and Morgan broke, "No. No. Oh no no no!" Tears began to fall from his face "No Jenny! No NO!" the walker moved closer toward them. Suddenly the door right in front of the walker swung open and out came a young black child.

"Dad?" the boy asked uncertainly.

"Duane!" Morgan cried staring at his son through his tears in disbelief.

"Look out!" Rick yelled. The boy turned around but he was too slow; his mother fell upon him teeth sinking into his shoulder. Morgan screamed. He fired Rick's pistol and the walker fell back blood spattering from its head. It was too late, the damage was done, Duane fell to floor holding his shoulder screaming in pain. The colt fell out of Morgan's hand as he ran to his son. Rick followed him. Morgan fell to his knees weeping and held his son to his chest. There was nothing they could do. Morgan just knelt there tears streaming down his face as his son howled.

It only took a couple of minutes yet it felt like hours to Rick as he watched the two them. He could feel tears streaking his own face. Finally the boy stopped screaming. His eyes closed and he went limp in his fathers arms. Morgan's crying intensified and Rick could only stand there silently as his throat tightened. Wordlessly he drew his bayonet from it's sheath and held it out to his friend. Morgan stared at the proffered blade for a solid five seconds before slowly reaching up and taking it. Cradling his son's head against his chest he put the tip of the bayonet against the boy's temple. Looking down at his son Morgan shook his head through the tears and pushed it in. Rick could feel himself crying for real now. Morgan pulled the blade out of Duane's head and as if in shock at what he had done dropped both it and the body onto the floor. Morgan stood up and without saying a word turned around and headed toward the stairs.

"Morgan where are you going?" Rick asked. Morgan didn't answer. "Morgan! Morgan kept going. Rick grabbed the bayonet and his lantern off the floor and ran after the freedman. By the time he reached the door Morgan was already at the bottom of the stairs. "Morgan!" Rick yelled. He ran down the stairs and out the front door. "Shit." He cursed. The street was filled with walkers. Apparently they had been drawn by Morgan's crying and Rick's yelling. Morgan was nowhere in sight. "Morgan!" Rick cried helplessly, "Morgan where are you?!" the walkers, hearing his voice started to move toward him. "God dammit!" Rick cursed again. There was no way he could find Morgan in this light. He stepped back into the building and locked the door. Everything was fucked.

* * *

 **So yeah. That was an emotional chapter. What did you guys think of it? Did I give Morgan's grief justice? I'm honestly not sure if there's a worse thing to witness than what he just did and I have never had an experience that is even remotely close. Hopefully I did it okay. Let me know what you think** **in the reviews** **and yeah... do that.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone thanks for stopping by :)**

 **Guest reviewers!**

 **Wdfan ch5: Curious and observant is precisely what I was aiming for. Carl is young and his character is developing, his ability to learn will shape him throughout the story.**

 **Wdfan ch6: The short answer is no. I thought it was rather ridiculous that the show seemed to have a two black character limit. In fact I will be adding black characters of my own. Nearly half of Georgia's population during the civil war was black and I will be doing what I can to represent that in this story.**

 **Guest: I thought what was put on the show was very moving and well acted. That being said I wanted to have Duane's death actuallt shown in my story rather than just talked about. I'm glad you liked it :). And Morgan might be alive you'll just have to wait and find out.**

 **Hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

Rick scrambled back away from the door. Thud! Thud! Thud! The walkers began to throw their weight against it trying to break in. Rick looked around, his lantern and the moonlight his only way of seeing. The walkers continued to bang against the door. Rick made his decision and ran for the stairs. He stopped at the second floor and picked up his colt where Morgan had dropped it. It had only five shots left and Morgan had the rest of his ammo. Rick stuck the gun in his pocket and made his way up the stairs again. The building was only four stories high and not one of the giant six or seven story ones. Rick wanted to get higher though, he wanted to get to the roof. Forcing open the first door on the third floor Rick made his way to one of the windows. He slid the pane open and poked his head out. He looked down and realized that he had never been this high in a building. Turning around he looked up to the edge of the roof. It was in reach. Tossing his Springfield and hat on top of the roof Rick climbed up after them.

Rick looked around again. The view from the roof was rather incredible even in the dim light. He walked to the front of the building and looked down. There were still walkers banging on the door but a bunch of them had taken to eating the mules who had apparently been unable to move when the dead arrived. Chances were they were asleep where it happened. They may have even been dead already. In any case Rick decided that the walkers were unable to climb and that he wasn't going to find anywhere safer while the sun was down. He sat down tiredly and wondered where Morgan was. If he was even still alive. And where were Carl and Lori? How would he find them? While he sat there thinking Rick's eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

A shot echoed through the air. Rick awoke with a start and automatically reached for his rifle. He ran to the corner of the building in the direction of the sound. Nearly two blocks down Rick saw a group of five people standing on an empty wagon. There were no animals in sight. Rick figured they must have been cut loose or the wagon had been there before the people were. They were far away but Rick could make out that only one of them had a gun. A short man with long blonde hair was holding a pistol. Without the group there Rick would have been willing to try and hit one of the walkers but with them there on the wagon he couldn't safely fire without fear of hitting one of the living. Instead Rick surveyed the ground below him. The walkers were still blocking his exit out the door. He would have to think of something else. Rick looked down the other street. Nearly two hundred yards down the street was a church with a bell in it's steeple. Rick smiled. He lifted his rifle and looked down the sights. It was going to be a tough shot. He primed the rifle, cocked it and aimed it again. Rick took several deep breaths and then lowered the rifle again. He needed to get the barrel on something solid. Half cocking the weapon so he wouldn't shoot it on accident Rick lay down on his stomach and steadied the gun on the edge of the of the building. He checked his primer to make sure it was still there and aimed. He fired; and missed. Rick muttered a curse under his breath and turned over onto his back as reached for his cartridge bag. Reloading a weapon on the ground was more difficult than doing it standing up. The powder had to be poured down the barrel while it was nearly horizontal. Rick had practice though, and in twenty seconds the ball was packed tightly against the powder at the bottom of the barrel. Spinning back over he capped the rifle again and cocked it. This time he spent a solid minute lining his shot up. Finally he pulled the trigger. A second after he did the bell rang. _Ding Dong! Ding Dong!_ Rick jumped up and looked down the other street. The group of people were still on the wagon. Not two seconds later the walkers turned away and began to move down the street toward him. Rick looked down at the walkers guarding his door and they too were moving. Rick ran for the open window.

As he made his way down the stairs Rick unsheathed his bayonet and fitted it onto the end of his Springfield. Taking out his colt he capped each of the five nipples he could fire. He didn't bother to reload his rifle; if there were too many walkers for him to take down with his pistol and bayonet then a single shot from a rifle nearly five feet long wasn't going to help. When Rick got to the door he stopped and listened. Nothing was banging on the door so he opened it and looked outside. The walkers in front of the door were gone but the larger group that was surrounding the wagon down the street was making it's way toward him. Rick ran across the street and took an alley between two, two story buildings. When he reached the next street over he slowed down to a jog and turned right in the direction he saw the group of people. Rick had been to Atlanta several times in his life but he had never been around it long enough to know it well. The city was always growing and always changing. Back in Glen-cove and Newman you were lucky to see a building that was two stories high. Here the buildings were at least two stories high, three and four stories high were common and even six and seven story buildings could be seen from most parts of the city. It gave Rick the feeling that he was in a walled maze. He didn't particularly like it.

Rick hung another right as he reached the end of the block. He could see the wagon, now empty of people, sitting at the intersection of the next street. As he neared it Rick slowed to a walk and looked up and down both streets for any sign of where they went. He couldn't see any. Suddenly Rick heard the raspy breathing of walkers behind him and he spun around. Two had appeared from alley and more were following them. Rick cursed and started to run again. More appeared in front of him. Rick drew his pistol and shot the one closest to him. Then cocking and firing in rapid succession he shot the next four as they closed in on him. Rick holstered his empty pistol and grabbed his rifle in both hands and prepared to be swarmed.

"Hey dumbass!" Rick jumped and looked to his right. The doorway of the building next to him was open and in it stood a young light skinned Asian holding it. "Yeah you in the cowboy hat Mr.! Get over here!" Rick lowered his rifle and ran toward the door. The Asian man swung it shut once he passed the threshold and Rick came face to face with a colt pistol.

"Just how _stupid_ are you?" demanded a female voice. At that moment Rick realized that the short blonde man he had seen earlier was actually a woman. A rather attractive woman in fact who was wearing tight fitting trousers. Rick couldn't help but stare at them even with the pistol in his face. Lori had worn pants on occasion when she helped him on the farm but she was the only woman he had ever seen dressed like that. Until now.

"Andrea! What are you doing?" The Asian kid demanded.

"This fucker just got us back _into_ the mess we just go out of!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rick demanded.

"You can't just go poppin' off rounds like that in the middle of a city!" Andrea said furiously. "You just brought ALL those walkers back on top of us and now we're screwed." As if to emphasize her point the walkers began to bang on the door outside.

"Andrea let him go!" the Asian told her. Andrea didn't listen.

"I was the one who rang that bell so the walkers would leave you." Rick said angrily, "So how about you lower that weapon and thank me instead of threatening me." For a moment it looked like the blonde was going to shoot him anyway but after several deep breaths she lowered the weapon. "Thank you." Rick said.

"It was you who rang the bell?" A thin man with a beard and a bowler hat stepped forward.

"Yeah." Rick told him, "I was stuck in a building a few blocks down and saw you. Saw the bell and shot it."

"Thanks." the man told him. He held out his hand, "My name's Jimmy."

"Rick." Rick took the hand, "You're welcome." He turned to the Asian, "What's your name?"

"Glenn."

Rick shook his hand, "Thank you for getting me in here Glenn." he looked around, "There were five of you. Where are the other two?"

"Theodore and Jacqui are on the roof." Glenn told him, "We were up there scouting for supplies when we saw you running by. We came down here to let you in."

Rick nodded, "You got a good view up there?"

"Yeah. Six story building tallest around for at least six blocks."

"Good. Let's get up there and see if we can find ourselves way out of this."

The building, much like the one Morgan had lived in, was full of rooms and hallways. The only difference was the stairs were bigger, the hallways were wider and everything was a little fancier. Rick figured this was probably a hotel as apposed to an apartment building. When they got to the top floor Rick discovered that both Theodore and Jacqui were black. This group was turning out to be full of everybody. Theodore was a rather large man with a clean shaven head and Jacqui was slight with tight curly hair. She was wearing pants as opposed to the tight fitting trousers Andrea had. They weren't quite as distracting.

"Is this the dude who shot up the street?" Theodore asked.

"Theo, Jacqui this is Rick." said Glenn, " _He's_ the guy who rang that bell and saved our asses."

"Oh. Well in that case, thank you."

"You're welcome." Rick told him. "How's it looking down there?"

"Walkers have got us surrounded." Theo told him. "We got more coming too."

Rick took a look over the corner of the building. Sure enough there walkers stretched up and down the street and the alleyway. Most of them were around the door pushing and shoving trying to get through. "They're like this on all sides of the building?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"You guys got a place we can go if we get out of here?"

"We have a wagon and horses outside of town on Foster Street." said Glenn, "We get there and we can get back to our camp."

"You have a camp?" Rick asked.

"Whoa we got to pick up supplies first!" Jimmy put in, "That's what we're here for."

"No." said Glenn.

"What the hell so you mean ' _no_ ' Chinaman?" Jimmy demanded angrily.

"Look I've always picked up supplies on my own until today. In and out no fuss. The first time a bunch of people come with me we get trapped. We should leave today and I'll come back by myself to get what we need."

"Look if you think we can just dictate what we do you have another thing coming!" Jimmy declared.

"This is _NOT_ the time to be arguing about this shit!" said Rick, "It seems to me that whoever's at fault this particular supply run has gone to crap. Let's get out of here and you guys can discuss who will go on the next one once we've gotten back to your camp." he turned to Theodore, "Is there a back door in this place?"

"Yeah. It's got walkers all over it though." Theodore told him

"As many as there are at the front door?"

"Not since you came in."

"Alright." Rick looked at Andrea. She hadn't spoken since she had taken her gun out of his face. "Do you have ammo for that thing with you?"

"Yeah." She said defiantly.

"44. caliber right?"

"That's right."

"Can you lend me six rounds?" Andrea glared at him, "Look I'm out of ammo and if we break out of this place it might be nice to have another loaded pistol don't you think?"

"Fine." the blonde reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a leather pouch. She removed six paper cartridges and handed them to Rick.

"Thank you." he said and started to load his empty cylinder. As soon as he was finished Andrea handed him six caps. "I got an idea." Rick told everyone as he primed his weapon. "I take it Andrea is the only one who has a gun?"

"That's correct." said Jimmy.

"Alright, Andrea you and I will go to the second floor and take positions in the back corners of the building. We break the windows and fire shots simultaneously to draw the walkers away from the back door. Once they're all at the corner we start moving toward the front of the building room to room. When they're all at the front of the hotel we head down to the first floor and take the back exit." Rick looked at Glenn, "You say you normally come here by yourself?"

"Yeah." said the younger man.

"If we clear out the back entrance can you lead us out to the wagon?"

"Yes."

"Good. Jacqui," he looked at the black woman in question who had not so much as spoken since he arrived, "You stay with Andrea. Glenn you're with me. If anything goes wrong and we need to communicate with each other you two will be the ones we send. Jimmy and Theodore you'll be one the first floor at the back door ready to run. Got it?"

"Wait." said Andrea, "You said we need to fire at the same time?"

"Yeah. It doesn't need to be perfect but if we have too much time between our shots the walkers might change direction and chase the wrong sound."

"Well how do we do that?"

"Good question. I'll be firing my rifle. I can get a shot off every fifteen seconds. So you wait till you hear my shot then fire. Every six shots I'll stop and wait for you to load. You fire the first one and then I lead for the next five shots. Rinse and repeat."

"Alright. Sounds good."

"Anybody else have any questions?" Nobody said anything. "Then let's go."

 **So what did you all think? Rick spent a lot of time by himself this chapter** **. What did you think of his thought process? Realistic? Interesting? Let me know what you thought.**

 **A note about Glenn. At this point in American history there were no Koreans living in the states. There was a rather strict government in Korea at the time and I guess we hadn't bothered to force them to open up like we did with Japan. There was however, a fair amount of Chinese and Filipino people living in the U.S. along with a few Japanese here and there. To keep Glenn both historically and show accurate I've decided to make him a Chinese man with Korean heritage. His parents lived in China before moving to America but some of his ancestors were Korean. As a result Glenn looks exactly as he does in the show but he will think of himself as Chinese. I mention this because he will be referred to as "Chinaman" several times throughout the story and while he will be offended by it he won't be correcting his country of origin like he does in the show.**

 **Another thing I want to point out is a historical _inaccuracy_ that is in this story. People in the 1800s did not speak the same way we do today. They certainly didn't use curse-words with the same flippancy. The use of the word "Fuck" was basically unheard of and anti-blasphemy laws were still around so taking the Lord's name in vain would have been worse than the F-bomb is today. That being said I imagine the characters' dialogue in today's 'language' and therefore will be using it when I write the story. If you want to you can think of it as a translation. Even if the characters wouldn't actually use the words I write they would say something else that would mean the exact same thing and I'm simply translating it to "modern day speak." You can think about it that way if you want to but really I just can't imagine Rick or anyone else talking any different than they do in the show so...**


	8. Chapter 8

****Pre turn: July 1868****

"How are things with Rick?"

Lori looked over at her friend sitting on the other side of the tea table, "I don't know Jane. I don't feel like we connect anymore. Maybe we never really did."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked leaning back in her chair to listen.

"Ever since he came back from the war he won't talk about it. Ever. Not with anybody. He doesn't hang out with any of his old friends except Shane and we haven't so much as gone to visit our parents since the Confederacy fell. It's like Rick is hiding from the world out here."

"Do you still love him?"

"Yes." Lori said quickly, "I mean, I think so. I have to right? He's my husband."

Jane opened her mouth to respond when Carl's voice rang through the house, "Mom! Shane and Dad are back!" Lori looked warningly at her friend and stood up. Rick wasn't supposed to back for another day or so but sure enough as she made her way to the front door Lori could see their wagon was coming up the road to the house. As she looked at however, Lori noticed that it was still full of cotton and there was only one person riding it.

Shane brought the wagon to a stop and got out of the vehicle slowly. His face looked grave as death and Lori felt fear in the pit of her stomach. "Where's Rick?" she asked. Shane didn't answer; he just walked up to her silently and looked at her eyes wide and full of guilt.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

" _Where_ is _Rick?!"_ Lori demanded. Shane swallowed.

"He's dead."

* * *

 ****One day ago****

Shane kissed her softly on the lips. "How was your day?" he asked. Lori kissed him back.

"It was good. As good as these days go anyhow." She smiled, "Carl will be here any minute. You should go."

"Tomorrow in the woods again?" Shane asked.

"Yes." He smiled at her and let her go. At that very moment Carl entered the tent.

"Hey there little man." Shane said turning around and ruffling the boy's hair.

"Hey Uncle Shane," the eleven year old responded.

"I was just heading out. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey Shane?" Carl asked stopping Shane before he exited the tent "Can I help you chop wood?". Shane turned around and squatted next to Carl, he gave Lori a quick glance.

"Absolutely. Tell you what, tomorrow I'm gonna be a little busy but the day after I'll take you out with me and show you how it's done alright?"

"Sure, that sounds good."

"Great." Shane stood up and ruffled Carl's hair one more time and gave Lori a look that said, 'what are we gonna do now?' Then he turned around and left through the tent flap.

* * *

 ****Present Day****

Rick smashed a window pane with the but of his gun. The horde of walkers were bunched up a few windows down reaching and grabbing toward the second floor where he had been about thirty seconds ago. He pointed his rifle down toward the ground capped it, cocked it and fired. Immediately the walkers looked over and began to shuffle toward him. It was working. He heard the faint crack of Andrea's pistol from the other side of the building and he pulled out another cartridge to reload.

"You fought in the war?" Glenn asked him from where he was standing a few feet back.

"Yeah." Rick said as he pulled out his ramrod and tamped his ball down the barrel.

"We're you an officer or something? You took charge pretty quickly up there." Rick was heading out to the hallway.

"Yeah, well no offense but you guys didn't seem to have any plans."

"None taken, like I said it's usually just me. Large groups don't tend to work well sneaking in and out."

Rick kicked in a door and made his way to his next window. They had decided to shoot at every fourth window as every other window seemed like overkill. "Yeah I don't doubt it." Rick said breaking the glass, "What made you guys decide to bring more people this time?"

"Needed more supplies. I can only carry so much."

"Right." Rick fired down at the ground again and watched as the walkers began to move toward him. Andrea's pistol echoed.

"What we should have done was bring one other person who was willing to watch and learn. Then we could have split up stayed quiet and still gotten double the supplies. Do that with a few more people and we'd be just fine."

"That would have been a much smarter idea." Rick agreed as fitted his next ball into his barrel, "Why didn't you do it?"

"I don't make the decisions." Said Glenn.

It only took about five minutes before all the walkers were at the front of the building and Rick and Glenn ran for the first floor. Andrea and Jacqui came down the stairs right behind them. All of them stopped at the back door where Jimmy and Theodore were waiting. "Everybody ready to go?" Rick asked they all nodded. "Alright, Glenn you lead."

The Asian opened the back door and peered out into the alley. He stepped out and waved at them to follow him. Glenn quickly proved his ability to move around the city effectively. Crouching low the young man stayed close to the sides of buildings as he sidled quickly down the alleyways and streets. At each corner he would stop and peer around it after which he would either wave at them to continue or quickly back track to another route. They spent forty-five minutes doing this, nobody saying a word just keeping a sharp eye out for open doors and stray walkers. Finally they made it to a long stretch of empty road that crossed the railroad. When they reached the tracks Glenn came to a stop and spoke.

"The tracks stay clear for the most part." He said, "When the trains were still bringing people in I think the walkers were all drawn to the stations and when they stopped running there was nothing to bring them out here."

"So we follow the track's out of the city?" Rick asked.

"We follow the tracks until we hit Foster Street." Glenn him, "Then we take Foster Street out of town where we'll meet James and the wagon."

* * *

Lori squatted by the thin stream running through the camp and washed the big pot used to make their lunch. Carol and Amy were helping her with Carol washing some of the dishes herself and Amy drying them off and putting them away. The other women were out harvesting berries and the men were trying to see if they could build some type of fence around the camp. Carl was watching them and helping when and where he could. Dale, the only man who wasn't working, sat in his wagon looking down the side of the mountain with his spy-glass.

"I can't believe Andrea and Jacqui went off in those pants!" Carol commented. "They looked flat out scandalous!"

"Well I don't exactly blame them." Lori said, "I wouldn't want to have to run away from a bunch of walkers in a dress."

"But they just wore them out in front of everybody!" Carol couldn't seem to get over it, "And Andrea actually wore trousers. They looked like a second skin!"

"Yeah I don't know what my sister was doing." Amy put in, "I asked her why she was wearing them this morning and she told me they were easier to move around in than both dresses and pants."

"We got a wagon coming up the trail!" Called Dale. All three ladies dropped what they were doing and made their way to the camp entrance.

"Is it them?!" Amy asked.

"I think so!" Dale responded.

"They shouldn't be back this early." Said Carol, "Did something go wrong?"

Shane arrived at the trail head along with Meryl, Ed and Carl. Shane and Meryl had their guns in their hands. Carl came and stood next to her. "Ladies stay back!" Shane ordered.

"Yeah it's them alright!" Dale called from the back of the camp, still in his wagon. "It looks like they got somebody new with them though." Lori waited the next few minutes anxiously until the wagon pulled around the corner. She couldn't see anyone except the young Negro boy James who was driving the horses and the Asian kid Glenn who sitting next to him. She watched curiously to see who the new person was behind them.

"Glenn!" Shane demanded, "Why are you back so early? You got walkers on your trail?!"

"No. No walkers behind us. We just ran into a little trouble in town." the Asian hopped off the wagon, "We also ran into somebody who helped us out. Everybody meet Rick!"

Lori's mouth dropped open in complete and utter shock. She stared at the man who for the past month she had thought was dead. Here he was however, somehow brought back to life.

"Dad!" Carl cried and sprinted at the wagon.

"Oh my God. Carl." Rick said hoarsely as he practically fell out of the wagon to meet his son. Lori ran after her him and threw herself at her husband holding onto him for dear life. Vaguely, out of the corner of her eye she saw that everybody was staring at them. All the emotions hit Lori at once, shock, joy, love, anger, betrayal. Where had he been? How was he alive? Why the hell had Shane told her he was dead? And holy shit Shane!

* * *

Rick didn't realize how hungry he was until Lori offered to get him some lunch. He hadn't eaten since noon the day before but everything had been so crazy he hadn't noticed. A gray haired woman named Carol had offered to cook so that Lori could stay next to him. Both Rick's wife and son were wrapped around him as he sat next to the large fire pit in the center of the camp. Rick took a moment to survey his new home. There were nearly twenty people all told and every one of them looked worn and ragged. Rick figured he probably looked the same. All the women, including Lori, wore stained, plain dresses and their hair either hung loosely or was held in a simple design in the back. The only exception was Andrea who was still wearing her trousers as if it were completely normal. Most of the men were wearing white cotton shirts that expanded at the elbow before tapering to the wrist. Some had their sleeves rolled up while others kept them at full length. Most of them wore pants of either brown or grey that were held up by braces*. There were two exceptions to this 'dress code'. Ed a pudgy man who sat off to Rick's left was wearing a full dress outfit. It was the same thing that everyone else wore with the addition of a vest, frock coat and top-hat. Everything he wore was clean. The other exception was much more remarkable. A rough looking fellow who's name Rick hadn't caught sat directly across from him cradling a Springfield rifle between his knees. His dark hair was cropped short and instead of a thin white cotton shirt he wore a thicker grey one that had buttons running from collar to stomach. On top of that he wore a dirty black vest that was unbuttoned and hanging loosely on his shoulders. Perhaps the most notable thing about him was the presence of a belt. Few people other than soldiers wore belts and everybody else in the camp, including Rick and Shane, had braces. This fellow had a belt though and large knife was sheathed on his left hip while two leather pouches were on his right. Rick assumed those held the cartridges and caps for the Springfield. The man hadn't said much since Rick had arrived but he didn't seem like the quiet brooding type.

"So you were asleep that entire time?" Shane asked him as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yeah. A coma is apparently what the doctor called it." Rick told him.

"How the hell did you not starve to death?"

"Some kind of medical contraption. They stuck a tube down my throat and fed me a mix of milk and eggs."

"Did it hurt?" Carl asked.

"I don't know son. I don't remember it." He kissed the top of his boy's head.

"I thought you had died." said Shane, "When you got shot and you just fell... I thought you were dead."

"You weren't wrong to think so. There was no reason to believe otherwise."

"Who were ya fightin'?" Asked the rough man Rick had noted earlier. His voice had a heavy rasp to it.

"I was fighting Klansmen." he said. The entire camp went deathly silent.

"And why were ya doin' that?" the man's voice took a nasty turn.

"I was trying to stop a lynching."

The man stood up and spat, "Fucking nigger lover." he said with disgust, and walked away. Everybody stayed was quiet.

"You shouldn't have mentioned that." Shane whispered.

"Why not?" Rick asked.

"That's Merle. He and his brother were part of the Klan."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Look with things the way they are now Rick we got to live with these people. You need to be careful about who you go around offending." Rick nodded in acknowledgement. Shane changed the subject, "So you guys didn't get any supplies while you were in town is that right?" he asked Jimmy.

Jimmy cleared his throat, "Yeah."

"Why not?"

"We brought too many people." said Glenn. Jimmy glared at him but the Asian didn't seem to notice. "I've been going in and out of town safely since we came out here I know how it's done. If you want to get more supplies I can bring one maybe two with me tops."

"Is that right?" Shane asked.

"No we-" Jimmy started to say but Andrea interrupted.

"Jimmy we were surrounded within a few hours of entering the city." She sounded exasperated, "Glenn's right, we brought too many people."

Shane looked at her curiously for a few moments before he spoke, "Alright then who's going to Glenn tomorrow?"

"I will." said Rick.

"What?! No!" Lori cried, "You can't! Not after you just back to us!"

"Lori's right Rick." Said Shane, "There's no need for you to do this."

"There is." Rick told him, "The man who kept me alive while I was asleep came with me to Atlanta. We got separated but as far as I know he's still alive. If he is I need to find him."

Shane looked at him consideringly, "I don't like it." he said.

"I have to go Shane. Besides Glenn says he can get in and out of the city no fuss right?"

"Yeah. That's right." said Glenn.

"I should be fine then." Rick looked down at his wife and son, "I should be just fine."

* * *

 **So there's chapter seven! A bit of Lori POV which I actually didn't plan on doing at first but just seemed to be necessary for this chapter. The opening scene was very important to me. I thought the show did a good job when they added that flashback back in the second season(?). It illustrated that Lori and Rick were having problems before Shane even came into the picture and it also showed that two people can still care for each-other even if their relationship doesn't work anymore.**

 *** "Braces" are suspenders. The word "suspenders" just sounds ridiculous to me and I can't imagine Rick saying or thinking it. I will be using the word braces for the rest of the story. Braces were part of every day wear for men in the 19th century. For some reason belts were only worn by soldiers and western settlers. I'm not entirely sure why. I've never worn braces but they seem far less practical than belts are. I'm sure they hold pants up just fine but for carrying knives, guns, ammo or tools, the belt seems infinitely better.**

 **Let me know what you thought of the chapter in the reviews!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's another chapter! For those of you wondering where I get the time to post so often I'm currently somewhat disabled and unable to work. Writing this story makes me feel productive. Just wanted y'all to know I'm not batshit crazy.**

 **Guest reviewer: Richonne and history were the two inspirations for this story and you're already enjoying both. Terrific!  
**

 **Everyone enjoy!**

* * *

Rick held his wife close to him. He listened to her soft, steady breathing as he watched his son sleep on the other side of the tent. The scene was completely serene and Rick never wanted it to end. This had played out once before. After the war had ended Rick had reunited with his family and he remembered sitting by Carl's bed in the middle of the night and watching sleep peacefully. For some reason this time it seemed better. Probably because he hadn't been sure they were alive. Why was God so cruel? He wondered, to make men kill their own brothers and then turn around and lay waste to the remains. With that depressing thought in his head Rick fell asleep.

That morning Rick woke feeling more rested than he had since his coma. Both Lori and Carl were gone and Rick pulled himself up, got dressed and left the tent. It was about mid-morning and the sun was shinning brightly over the camp. Rick took a look around taking it in once more. The ragged settlement was the strangest mix of odds and ends that Rick had ever seen. Several different styles of tents surrounded the large fire pit. He could see four wagons including the monstrous contraption the white haired Dale was sitting in and over a dozen animals roaming or tied up outside the camp.

"Hey you're awake." Lori said, appearing from around a tent.

"Yup." Rick kissed her. "Where's Carl at?"

"He's sitting on one of the wagon's outside of camp. He likes to watch everyone."

Rick smiled, "I'll go say good morning to him and then go find Glenn."

"Oh, actually Shane wanted to talk to you before you do."

"Okay. Where is he at?"

"He's - Oh he's right here." Rick turned and saw Shane walking toward him. His hands were dirty and there were sweat stains around his collar and under his armpits. He had his Enfield rifle slung over his shoulder as he came over.

"Hey Rick how are you feeling?"

"Better than I have in a long while." Rick told his best friend with a smile.

"I'll go get you some breakfast," Lori said, "Leave you two to it." Rick nodded his thanks to her as she left and turned back to Shane.

"Lori said you wanted to talk to me?" Shane's face suddenly turned serious.

"Yeah. I gotta ask Rick; what are you planning to do here?"

"What I'm planning to do?" Rick was confused.

"Rick we have a precarious balance here in this camp. The world just ended and many people think this is the chance remake it the way they like it. Some of them are saying that this is God's punishment for us freeing the slaves. We had fights breaking out every day for the first week we were out here. I managed to settle things down, made a kind of peace deal. Coloreds stay free but they do all the dirty work. It's been good. Merle and his brother only just arrived though, and they aren't too happy with the arrangement. They want all the coloreds in chains or at the end of a rope. Then you show up and the first thing you do is talk about how you shot up some Klansmen to prevent a lynching. That peace I created? It's this close to falling apart." Shane paused to judge Rick's reaction and then continued, "Last night I get to thinking, you were never really for slavery and you risked your life trying to save a couple negros. I gotta know Rick are you planning to remake the world too? Do you want to make it so whites and coloreds are treated exactly the same? Because if you are shit around here is gonna get ugly and it's gonna get ugly fast."

Rick shook his head, "No Shane. I'm not planning on doing anything of the sort. The system you've got is more than fine as far as I'm concerned."

"Good." Shane nodded his head, "In that case I need you to do something for me. I need you to make peace with Merle."

"How the hell do you want me to do that?"

"I don't know. Find someway to do it. Or at the very least don't aggravate him again. He's the only one besides you, me and Andrea who has a gun and he could cause some trouble."

"I'll see what I can do." Rick promised.

* * *

Carl sat next to his father and watched him eat his breakfast. The shock at seeing his dad alive had been almost more than he could take. Even now as he looked up at his father's face it seemed almost surreal. Carl had a thousand and one questions for his father. What were they going to do? Were they going to live at the camp forever? What did he think of the coloreds? Or Ed? or the Dixons? For now though, Carl was content to sit with his father in silence.

The young light-skinned man named Glenn walked up to the camp fire. Carl had never seen anyone like him before coming to the camp. At first he thought he had to be an Indian though he didn't look much like one. His mom had told him he was a Chinaman, from a country on the other side of the world called "China." The Chinaman seemed nice enough to Carl. Glenn came up to them, "I'm ready to head out when you are." he said, Rick nodded.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes." At that moment Merle walked up along with Ed and Jimmy. Merle was a little bit scary. He acted as if he didn't have a care in the world and for some reason that put Carl on edge.

"So I understand that the new guy and the Yellow skin are going into town to pick up our supplies." said Merle in a haughty voice.

"Yeah that's right." said Shane who was standing on the other side of the fire.

"Well I don't know about the rest of you." said Merle, "But I don't like the idea of trusting a Chinaman and a nigger lover with picking up our supplies. Sounds like a recipe for disaster to me."

"Do you have a problem with me?" Carl watched his dad stand up and looked Merle in the eye.

"Yeah I do." Merle responded staring right back, "You shot two of my brethren from what I hear."

"Look you know the deal." said Shane, "Glenn and the negros are the ones who do jobs like running into town. Rick here volunteered so that's why he's going."

"Yeah well.. in case you don't remember I wasn't here when your precious deal was made." Merle rasped, "These people shouldn't be trusted with something so important as supplies. I think most of the people in this camp agree with me." He sneered at Glenn, "Most of the people that matter anyway."

"If you got such a big issue with it Merle why don't you go with them." Shane challenged.

"Ya know what? I think I will. Make sure none of you goes and _steals_ anything."

"That is a terrible idea." said Rick, "Glenn said he can only take -"

"Rick." Shane interrupted. Carl saw Shane give his father a meaningful look. He couldn't tell what it meant but his dad apparently did.

"I don't give a damn what the Chinaman said." Merle stated, "I don't trust you so I'm going with you."

"Fine." Rick said, "We're going now."

* * *

"This is a terrible idea." Glenn muttered, Rick didn't answer. The two of them were sitting in the wagon next to the young colored boy James. Merle was riding on a dark brown light horse with his Springfield rifle slung across his back. Rick agreed with Glenn, bringing Merle along was the worst idea ever but Shane was right. They needed to keep the peace and for Rick that meant bringing along a brash, backwards woodsman from the wild west on a mission that required stealth.

James pulled the wagon to a halt a mile or so outside of town. Rick followed Glenn out of the wagon and Merle dismounted his horse. "Why are we stopping?" Merle asked.

"We um.. we go on foot from here." Glenn told him, "We make less noise that way." Merle grunted but didn't push the issue. The three of them began to walk toward Atlanta.

"What part of town do you normally go to?" Rick asked Glenn as they made their way down Foster street.

"I usually stay in the southeast corner but sometimes I go north as well. Yesterday we were trying to see if there was a way into the barracks. They were using it as a shelter for survivors so it ought to be well stocked with food and ammo."

"I was just there two days ago. There didn't seem to be a way in."

"Well we should take a look anyway. If we can somehow access it we'd be set." said Glenn. Merle didn't say anything he just strode down the other side of the road silently. The three of them followed Foster street until they hit the tracks where they turned left and headed into town. When they reached the next road Rick recognized it as the one they took when exiting the city the day before. Glenn brought them to a stop. "This is very important." he said looking at Rick but clearly intending his words for Merle, "When we enter city we need to stay very quiet. The whole trick to this is that we don't draw attention. We don't fight walkers we hide from them. We try not to get seen but if we do we run. We only fight as a last result and only shoot as a _very_ last result."

"Yeah, whatever." said Merle. Rick nodded his acknowledgement.

"O.K." said Glenn. They started their way down the street.

They weren't two blocks down when they saw their first walker. "Hide!" Glenn whispered and dashed over to the side of a house. Rick followed close at his heels. As they neared the building a loud crack echoed through the air. Rick whipped his head around and saw Merle pointing a smoking rifle down the street.

"The hell is wrong with you?!" Rick demanded striding furiously back out onto the street. "We DON'T shoot unless we ABSOLUTELY have to!"

"If you think I'm gonna follow the orders of a damn Chinaman you got another thing coming _Rick_."

"Look I get that you don't like that were not making the negros and the Chinaman slaves but you need to learn to _listen_ if you don't want to die out here."

"I'm not listening to you or your yellow friend so you best get over it." Merle said.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." Rick told him and struck Merle on the head with the butt of his pistol. The brawny man fell to the ground. Rick hit him a second time to make sure he was unconscious and then holstered his colt again. "Help me get him up!" he called to Glenn who still over by the house. The Asian ran over and together they lifted the unconscious Merle.

"What.. are we gonna do with him?" Glenn asked straining under the weight.

"Let's get him into that house." Rick said nodding at the building he and Glenn had run to. They dragged Merle into the house and up the stairs and dropped him on the floor in the middle of a bedroom. Glenn was breathing heavily. "Go find some rope." Rick told him, "I don't want him waking up and chasing after us." Glenn nodded and disappeared out the bedroom door. Rick surveyed the man lying in front of him. On his belt Merle had two pouches for ammunition and caps. Rick was only carrying his pistol so the Springfield ammunition wouldn't do him much good. On Merle's left hip though was a large knife in a leather sheath. Rick reached down and drew it out. "Whew!" He muttered to himself. It was an old James Black Bowie knife* with a twelve inch blade; a deadly weapon. At that moment Glenn re-entered the room with a couple lengths of rope.

"Here." he said handing it to Rick.

"Take this." Rick responded trading Merle's knife for the rope. Glenn stared at the massive blade as he accepted it. "It's better than the little pig sticker you got." Rick told him nodding at the small knife Glenn had sheathed at his waist.

"But what if - what if he gets attacked while we're gone?"

"We'll lock the door. I don't want to leave it with him anyway. He could cut himself free."

"Okay.." Glenn eyed the huge knife uncertainly. Rick knelt down and began to bind Merle's hands behind his back. He pulled the Bowie knife's sheath off the man's belt and tossed it to the Asian.

"Don't cut yourself." he said half jokingly.

"Yeah. No kidding." Rick finished securing the knots and stood up, satisfied with his work.

"Let's get those supplies now." he said.

* * *

An hour and half later Rick and Glenn stood outside the front gates of Fort McPherson. They had wheeled an abandoned wagon up to the gates and much like Rick and Morgan had done two days earlier they were standing on it looking over the wall in awe and horror.

"Yeah. Doesn't look like we'll be getting in there any time soon." Glenn admitted as he looked out over the herd of dead Union soldiers and southern civilians.

"Probably not." Rick agreed. "Let's go ahead and check the perimeter of the fort anyway. Maybe there's or breach in it or perhaps there was some stuff stored outside."

The trip around the fort didn't take long, they didn't find any supplies but they did find four soldiers dead on the ground. They were all lying faces up feet toward the wall of the fort. Each one had walker bites on them. Rick knelt beside them and patted them down. None of them had weapons. "Their comrades inside the fort must have shot them and taken all their guns and ammo." Rick said.

"Well this was a waste of time." Glenn muttered.

"Speak for yourself." Rick told him. He unbuckled one of the Union soldiers belts and pulled it off of him. Rick removed his knife sheath and pistol holster from his braces and slid them onto the belt as he put it on himself. He looked up at Glenn, "You should take one. That big Bowie knife looks ridiculous hanging off the end of your brace like that.

Glenn chuckled nervously, "Okay." He took a belt off of one of the other soldiers and put it on moving both of his knife sheaths to it. "This feels funny." He commented, shifting his hips awkwardly.

"Yeah well you'll get used to it. Trust me soldiers wear these things for a reason."

"Should we get the others?" Glenn asked, "In case other people back at camp want them?"

"Yeah. Let's do that."

For the next several hours Rick and Glenn filled their rucksacks with whatever items they deemed might be useful. Knives, clothes and the occasional stash of dried food. Rick kept an eye out for any sign of Morgan while they were at it. Every few blocks or so he would make his way to the roof of a tall building and check the surrounding area. He never saw anything. Rick hoped desperately that the freedman was still alive. Eventually the two men finished their foraging and made their way back to where they left Merle. When they got there the house was surrounded.

"Oh shit." Glenn muttered.

A group of walkers three ranks deep were banging on the front door. Others spread around the building in a thin straggling line and Rick heard the distinct sound of breaking glass from around the back of the house.

"We gotta get him out of there." said Rick. Glenn looked up at him with a panicked expression on his face.

"How the hell are we gonna do that?"

"You lead them away. Do you know how to shoot a pistol?" Glenn shook his head, "Well then find some pans and bang them together, do something, just draw them away."

"Why does it have to be me? You have the gun."

"Because if you're the one who cuts Merle free he's likely to kill you, and as you said, I have the-" Rick stopped at a new sound coming from behind him. He turned and saw a herd of walkers turn the corner. Rick gave up all thoughts of rescuing Merle, "Ruuun!" he cried. They sprinted down the street. The walkers followed.

"This way!" Glenn shouted and ducked to the right between two of the houses. Rick followed. Behind the buildings the forest loomed in front of them and Glenn dashed toward the tree line. "We might be able to lose them in the woods!" He cried breathlessly. Rick didn't say anything and just followed him into the trees saving his breath for the running. The walkers chased them but their sharp turn off the road had gained Rick and Glenn some ground. Rick continued to follow the Asian's lead. He knew that the railroad was somewhere off to their left and that they were heading in some southeast direction but he lent his trust to Glenn's knowledge of the area. After about fifteen minutes of running Glenn slowed down to a much more tolerable jog. The walkers were out of sight but Rick could still hear them rustling in the bushes behind them. Not five minutes later they broke the treeline and Rick found himself running next to the railroad. They didn't stop. They just continued to jog down the track. Rick was suddenly brought back to the war. Quick marches filled his memory. There had been times he'd marched twenty and even thirty miles a day loaded with supplies. Men would throw all kinds of things away to lighten the load. Rick didn't want to ditch anything today.

Luckily it wasn't necessary. Forty minutes after arriving at the train-tracks they saw the welcome sight of a familiar wagon. "James!" Glenn shouted, "James! Get us out of here!" The young negro boy deftly turned the wagon around and raced toward them.

"You got walkers behind you?!" he asked they jumped into the wagon gasping for breath.

"Maybe." Glenn said breathlessly, "We might have lost them but they were on our tail not long ago."

"What about the -" James glanced at Rick, "What about Merle?"

"He - He got trapped."

"Just get us out of here!" Rick cried.

"You got it boss." and with a sharp cry James had the mules started up again and they were gone.

* * *

 **Whew! I think that was my longest chapter yet!**

 **So we saw some more of Merle and got some more insight into the camp.** **What do you guys think of Shane's "peace"? And what do you think of Rick's reaction to it?**

 **Also Daryl will be appearing in the next chapter so I want to hear your guesses on how he'll look. Points to anyone who gets something right ;D.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for all support guys! Reviews, follows, favorites they all make this story more fun to write.**

 **A quick update about my Tumblr. I meant to post maps for the last two chapters but forgot. So I've gone ahead and posted one map that shows all the traveling done in both those chapters and this one.  
Also I am now posting more than just maps on Tumblr. Today I've got a special treat for you! I have posted a picture of Merle's Bowie knife. It's a rather unique knife and it doesn't look like the common Bowie knives you see in movies and shows. Turns out the category of "Bowie knife" is rather large and general and there are about a hundred and one different styles. I went out of my way to mark Merle's knife as a James Black Bowie knife for this reason. There are many things that make this particular knife interesting and I will go into it's history later on in the story. For now though I thought you guys might want to know what it looks like. You can take a look at it (and the map) at JasonBlakePosts on Tumblr. When you type my username into the search bar do _not_ hit search. Watch the search drop down and you'll see my blog, it's called "The Ricktatorship Series" by JasonBlakePosts. I know that's a bit of a hassle but for some reason if you actually hit the search button my account doesn't come up.**

 **Points go to Courtgirl26 and Batshark for each guessing a piece of Daryl's attire. (You'll see which ones down below.)  
** **Other very good guesses were made as well and I'm not just saying that for the heck of it. Most of the guesses were things that I had considered in depth before choosing the style I did.**

 **Now to answer my guest reviewers!**

 **Wdfan! glad to see you again!**

 **Ch7. Yeah Rick is being a little naugty ;p. But to be fair seeing a woman dressed like at the time would be an attention grabber.**

 **Ch8. Ohhh I wish I could tell you what happens to Merle and Andrea. I can't tho, spoilers. :( ;D**

 **Ch9. We got more action coming right up!**

 **Guest: You don't like Daryl? How is that even possible? I'm just kidding, to each their own. :p  
** **Anyway if you're the same Guest I think you are I have to thank you. Your reviews have made me smile each time. :)  
I completely get why you don't like Shane's peace. At its best it's the lesser of two evils but that doesn't change the fact that it's evil.  
As for Lorick and Sharick (I don't know if Sharick is a thing but if it isn't I'm making it one) things will be similar to what they were in the show but not so similar you'll be able to guess what's coming. :D**

 **Thank you all for stopping by and enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"Goddamit Rick! You've really done it now."

"I'm telling you Shane I had no choice. He was gonna get us killed."

Shane clenched his fist and grimaced. "Look I believe you but it doesn't change that this puts us in a really bad position. If it were just the people in the camp we'd be fine. They might be upset but none of them have the balls to do anything by themselves. Merle's brother though. He was part of the Klan and if he starts causing problems the others might too."

Rick turned his head away trying to think. He felt bad for putting his friend in this situation even if he hadn't had a choice. Shane had made the best of a shitty situation and Rick had just messed it up. He looked back at his friend, "What if we go look for Merle?" he asked, "We don't know for sure that he's dead. I'll go with Glenn and maybe we'll take somebody else too. Somebody who can vouch that we did everything we could."

"You're willing to go out again?" Shane asked him, "You've barely even rested since you woke up."

"If it can keep this camp from tearing itself apart than yeah I'm willing to do it."

Shane sighed, "Alright it might work, but you're gonna have fun telling Lori that."

Lori was furious. "Again?!" she screamed, "Rick this is ridiculous! You have nearly died _both_ times you've gone into Atlanta and you want to again?. Are you **_trying_** to re-orphan your son?!" Rick stared at his wife in utter shock. She looked slightly ashamed but didn't back down.

"Lori I am doing this _for_ Carl. If Daryl Dixon comes back and finds out that we left his brother tied up and didn't even go back to find him this camp could get very violent and I don't want that for Carl. Besides I left Merle tied up to be eaten by walkers. That's no way for anything to die let alone a human being."

"I can't live like this Rick. I _Just_ got you back, I can't keep living not knowing if you'll be alive by the end of the day."

"I know." Rick said pulling his wife to his chest, "It will get better. I just need to fix what's gone wrong here and then I'll stay here in the camp for as long as possible. Okay?" Lori gripped his arms tightly with her fingers.

"Okay." She said softly.

The next morning Rick woke up early. He left Lori asleep in their bed and walked out into the dim light of predawn. There were others already awake. The white bearded Dale sat at the front of his wagon wearing an angular bowler hat with a small feather in it. Andrea was sitting outside her tent with her sister Amy showing her how to load her colt. The older blonde was wearing men's clothes again, Rick wondered if she always did.

Rick made his way to the latrine pit to relieve himself. It was placed out in the woods a decent distance from the camp. As he approached the smelly area Rick saw the stocky figure of Theodore. He was raking at the pit covering up the waste with dirt to alleviate the stench. Rick nodded to him as he made his way to the opposite of the hole to do his business. Theodore nodded back but didn't say anything. He just put his head down and continued the disgusting job.

Dawn broke as Rick made his way back to the camp. More people were exiting their tents. Carol passed him with her daughter, her long grey hair flowing freely behind her as they went by. Jimmy was out of his tent too and exchanged brief greetings with Rick. Rick could hear Jimmy's wife yelling at their two children from inside the tent. When he got to the center of the camp Shane was already there starting a fire. "Morning." Rick said.

"Good morning." Shane responded. He lit the fire kindling and within seconds the fire was blazing. Shane sat back with a sigh. "You gonna be heading out this morning?" he asked.

"As soon as we've had something to eat." Rick told him, Shane nodded. "I got a question for you Shane." Rick said sitting down next to his friend, "How safe is this camp?"

"It's pretty safe. We've only had one walker up here since I arrived. We've been building a fence to make it even safer."

"What about food?"

"That's a bit of a problem. We've been relying on what we can forage and hunt. It hasn't been enough. We've butchered some oxen to make up for what we can't find but we've only got two left. That's why we sent out more people with Glenn. We need to find another food source."

"There's no good ground for growing crops here is there?"

"No."

"Well that's disappointing."

"Yeah." Shane grabbed his rifle which was slung across his back and began to take it apart, cleaning it. Rick watched him for a moment and then chuckled.

"You still got the old Enfield huh?"

"Absolutely!" Shane said, "You know it's better than that hunk of Union metal I saw you haul in with you."

"Yeah whatever." Rick said smiling. Shane grinned back at him. Rick watched as his best friend's smile faded.

"Ah shit." Shane said softly. Rick looked over his shoulder and saw the oddest thing thing he had come across since first seeing the dead walk. It was a man wearing the same clothes that Merle had but somehow more ragged. He had grey brown pants held up by a belt with large knife sheathed on his left hip. His light brown shirt was full buttoned like Merle's but it was cut at the elbows leaving frayed strings hanging off of the cut edge. The man had a rough goatee with unshaven cheeks. His hair was short, brown and dirty and behind his head on his shoulders was a dead deer.

"Hey y'all I brought _bre_ akfast." The man said with a strong accent and flung the deer down on the ground next to the fire pit, it was then Rick noticed the strangest thing about the man yet. On his back was an olive green quiver with a dark brown bow backed with snake skin tucked into it. "My brother and I get the best bits." he declared. Shane glanced at Rick gravely and stood up. Rick got up with him.

"Daryl. There's something I need tell you about your brother." Daryl stopped and looked at Shane.

"What? Is he dead?"

"We don't know."

"The hell you mean you don't know? Either he dead or he _a_ in't!"

"Your brother and I were on a run in Atlanta." Rick told him, "He was being obnoxious so I knocked him out, tied him up and left him in a house. By the time we came back for him the house was surrounded. The walkers saw us and we had to run."

"So let me get this right." said Daryl, "You tied my brother up in house surrounded by walkers, and you _left_ _him there_?"

"Your brother was about to get us killed." said Rick. At this point everyone in the camp had come to the fire pit and was watching the exchange. Suddenly, with a cry of anger Daryl drew his knife and charged. Rick heard Lori scream.

While not as large as Merle's, Daryl's knife was by no means small. It was a Bowie knife but designed differently than Merle's. The clip point was more defined and a cross guard protected the handle. It was too heavy to block easily but light enough it would be difficult to dodge. Rick wasn't sure how he was going to avoid getting cut. Luckily he didn't have to.

Shane swung his four and half foot rifle around by the barrel and struck Daryl on the chin. With a howl of pain Daryl fell to ground and dropped his knife. Shane dropped his rifle and lifted Daryl up putting him in a choke hold. Rick bent over, picked up the Bowie knife and pointed it at its owner, "Listen carefully Dixon, leaving your brother there was never my intention. It was something I was forced to do. What I was about to say however, before you decided to attack me, is that we were going to go back to Atlanta this morning to find him. So if you're willing to calm down how about you come with us and maybe we can keep your brother alive. Does that sound good to you?"

Daryl growled at him, "Yeah." he said.

"You gonna stay calm if we let you go?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Rick nodded at Shane. Shane released Daryl and the pinned man spat and rolled up to his feet. Rick reversed his grip on the Bowie knife and held it out to him. Daryl looked at him suspiciously and Rick held his gaze. After a moment Daryl accepted the knife and put it back in his sheath. He looked around at the group staring at him. Rick watched as the younger Dixon's eyes fell on Glenn, Rick cursed under his breath.

"The hell are you doing with my brothers knife?!" Daryl demanded. Rick stepped forward and put a strong hand on Daryl's shoulder.

"I took the knife from your brother." he said, "Glenn has it because he's coming with us and was going to give it back." Daryl turned glared at him.

"Here." Glenn said removing the knife from his belt and handed it to Daryl, "You give it to him." Daryl glared at Glenn but took the knife. He shook Rick's hand off and walked out of the camp.

* * *

"You are really trying to get me killed." said Glenn sitting in the wagon next to Rick again, "Two trips in two days both with Dixons. And if this one goes according to plan we'll be traveling with _two_ Dixons. This is just wonderful."

"Yeah I'm not happy about it either." Rick told him eyeing the younger Dixon as he rode ahead of them on his mustang. Rick couldn't imagine a more ragged looking human. He wondered why Daryl didn't carry a gun. Using a bow took skill and training and if Daryl hadn't walked into the camp carrying a dead deer Rick would have doubted he could use it. Nevertheless it seemed pointless, why go to the effort of learning how to shoot a bow when you could just as easily pick up a gun, point it and pull the trigger? Nothing about Daryl fit. The bow belonged on the back of an Indian savage, the quiver should have been part of a pair of trousers, and his clothes belonged in a bon-fire. 'I guess these days nothing is strange anymore.' Rick thought to himself.

James brought the wagon to a halt in the same spot he had the day before. "Good luck out there." He told Glenn.

"Thanks. I think I might need it." Glenn told him. Rick jumped out of the wagon. Daryl was still ahead of them and hadn't stopped.

"Daryl!" Rick called. Daryl brought his horse to a halt and looked back. Seeing Rick and Glenn out of the wagon he turned around and trotted back to them.

"What's goin' on?" he demanded.

"We walk from here." Rick told him, "We stay quiet and we follow Glenn's lead."

"You think I'm gonna follow a Chinaman?"

Rick sighed, "Your brother said the same thing. He ended up bringing a bunch of walkers down on him. You want to do that?" Daryl snorted, "Listen to Glenn. I don't care what you think of his race he's been in and out of Atlanta safely more times than you and I have ever been there period. If he says we need to do something we do it. Got it?"

" _Fi_ ne." Daryl dismounted off the mustang and brought it to the side of the road where he tied it loosely to a tree. "Bandit better be just fine when I get back." He told James and turned to Glenn, "How long before we run into walkers?"

"I-I'm not sure. They chased us pretty far yesterday they could be close even now."

"Huh." Daryl drew his bow out of it's quiver and Rick realized that it wasn't strung yet. The bow was about four feet long and it had only one end of its string tied. The other end hung down in a loose circle ending several inches above the wooden notch it was clearly meant to go in. Daryl flipped the bow placing the tied end on the ground. He put his weight on the other end bending the bow and pulled the other end of the string up into the notch. Daryl let the bow straighten again and the string tightened around it snugly. He flipped his bow again and tested it's draw. Grunting in satisfaction Daryl looked around at the group watching him. "Well we gonna get goin' or what?" He asked and started off down the road. Rick and Glenn followed him.

When they reached the railroad Glenn continued down Foster street instead of turning to follow the tracks. "The railway is probably covered in walkers after we led them there yesterday." He explained, "We'll have to risk it on the streets." Rick just nodded, he tried not to think about what happened the last time he had taken Foster street all the way into town. With any luck the herd that had followed him and Morgan was still up north.

It turned out that the new route Glenn took them on was not much longer than taking the tracks. They kept close to the houses as usual and at every intersection Glenn checked every direction before deciding which one to take. Finally they reached an intersection where the road they were on ran diagonally into the next one. Glenn brought them to a stop. "This is the road with the house we left Merle in." he said, "It's about a half mile down from this intersection. There's a good chance we'll run into the herd on our way down so let's be very careful."

"Will do." Rick told him. Glenn slowly led them out onto the street. As far as Rick could see there weren't any walkers, but that didn't mean there weren't any hiding in the alleyways or between to the houses. As they made their way down the street a walker suddenly appeared on the other side and Rick reached for his knife. Before he could even get it out of his sheath an arrow whipped through the air and struck the creature in the head. The walker fell to the ground with a thump.

"What an ugly bastard." Daryl commented nonchalantly and walked across the street to retrieve his arrow. Rick stared at Daryl as he removed his metal tipped arrow out of the walkers skull. Maybe the bow was useful after all.

Less than ten minutes later they were at the house where they'd left Merle. The door was broken down but no walkers appeared. Rick double checked his Colt to make sure all the rounds were capped. "Let's go." He said and entered the doorway gun first. There were no walkers on the first floor. "We left him upstairs." He told Daryl. This time Daryl didn't wait for Rick to take the lead and instead charged up the stairs.

"Merle!" He yelled, "You alive up there?!"

"Be quiet!" Rick called running after him with Glenn at his heels. Daryl ignored him.

"Merle!" He yelled again throwing open doors.

"This way!" Rick shouted when he reached the top of the stairs and ran down the hallway. The door they locked Merle behind was open. Rick ran in and Daryl and Glenn followed behind him. They all stopped as soon as they entered. There on the floor was the rope Merle had been tied with lying in a pool of blood and guts. There was no body to be seen.

* * *

 **What happened to Merle?! Any guesses?**

 **What did you guys think of Daryl's introduction? As I hinted at above I went through a lot of different looks and backstories for him before deciding on this one.** **What do you think of his bow? Why do you think he looks the way he does? Why does he dress differently from Merle? Any and all theories are welcome. I may let you know if you get something right (if it isn't too much of a spoiler).**

 **If you have any other comments on the chapter go ahead and leave them in the reviews. I enjoy reading all your thoughts.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Welcome back everyone! I hope y'all had a great labor day weekend. Or at least those of you who live in America. (Is labor day celebrated anywhere else?)  
Speaking of which if I have any readers from other countries I would be very interested in hearing your perspective on a story that deals so heavily with American history. Does it feel strange to you? How much of the American civil war is taught where you're from? I'm very curious!**

 **I want to thank my one guest reviewer who urged me to update. I've always wanted to have the type of story people liked so much they would harass me for more. And guess what? The update is here! Enjoy!**

* * *

"What the-? Where's his body?" Rick asked staring at the remains on the floor.

"He ain't dead." said Daryl. He pushed passed Rick and walked over to the bed in the corner. Bending down on one knee Daryl reached his hand under the bed stand and grabbed something. He stepped backwards and pulled out a dead body. Its stomach was opened up and its face was in ribbons. A swath of blood followed the body out from under the bed. Glenn vomited.

"He looks dead to me." said Rick.

"This ain't him." Daryl responded.

"How do you know?" Rick gestured to the bloody and unrecognizable face.

"Look at his clothes. That's a white cotton shirt. Merle ain't ever owned anything that was _wh_ ite." Daryl reached down and lifted a brown strap off the body's shoulder, "These are suspenders, Merle wears a belt." He gestured at the open stomach, "He cut open the belly and covered himself with the guts so the geeks couldn't smell him. My brother knows how to survive."

"That works?"

"I don't know; but it might."

"So he might be dead after all."

"Maybe, but I don't believe it."

"Why did he hide the body under the bed?"

"Pro'lly so y'all'd think he's dead."

"Why would he... oh shit!"

"What's wrong?" asked Glenn worriedly.

"We need to get back to the camp."

"Why?"

"Merle's there."

* * *

Amy sat next to the fire eating the fresh venison she had helped Lori and Carol cook. Her sister sat next to her, still wearing her scandalous trousers. The rest of the camp ate with them scattered around the fire in ones and twos. At the moment they were talking about the fence the men were building around the camp.

"We should get it done by the end of the week." Shane commented. He was sitting by himself his gun next to him as always.

"We could get it done faster if the damned coloreds would just work harder." put in Ed. "Theodore's always slacking off and the other two are always running off to town."

"You got a problem with the way I work Peletier?" growled Theodore from where he sat with his wife away from everyone else. "I work harder than any of you, and _you_ Ed are the _last_ person to judge another man's work ethic!"

"What exactly are you saying nigger?!" Ed demanded.

"Both of you! Shut that _shit_ down!" Shane ordered angrily. Both men went quiet. Amy turned her focus away from them. She didn't like it when arguments broke out. Instead she opted watched the four kids sitting together and eating. Jimmy's kids were fighting over something and Sophia was watching them with mild intrigue. Carl however, didn't pay attention to the tow at all. He was watching the adults with eyes full of interest. Amy had noticed Carl usually looked that way, whether he was sitting on his wagon or eating at the fire pit. A sharp squeal sounded and Amy saw Sophia laughing as Jimmy's older child Sam, began poking Eric in the ribs. Amy chuckled softly herself. It was amazing that even after the world had gone to hell kids could still be kids. Somehow that thought made everything seem more hopeful.

Andrea leaned over closely, "So what do you think of him?" she whispered in Amy's ear.

"Think of who?" Amy whispered back.

"Shane."

Amy looked at her sister in surprise, "Why? Do you like him?"

"Me? No. I don't think I act ladylike enough for him." Andrea gave her a smirk.

"What _me_?" Amy asked incredulously.

"Why not? He's smart and good looking." Andrea nudged her in the ribs, "Besides he's the only eligible bachelor here. Figured I'd give you first dibs."

Amy giggled, "I don't know. He seems so... gruff."

Andrea giggled herself barely keeping it quiet. "That he is I suppose. Probably a good thing considering today's world."

"Isn't it a bit ridiculous to talk about romance in today's world?" Amy asked. Andrea's expression immediately sobered.

"Maybe." she said sadly.

"What are you two girls laughing about?" Dale asked from the opposite side of the fire.

"Nothing." Andrea told him a little too quickly.

"Is that so?" The older man looked at them knowingly, "Well if you're not going to tell us what's so funny maybe you can tell us what you did.. you know, before everything happened."

"What makes you think we did anything special?" Andrea asked. "We just lived with our parents in Florida. I worked at a factory in town and Amy stayed at home and helped take care of our parents."

"What about the gun then? Where did you get it?" Dale asked.

"Yeah I've been meaning to ask you about that." said Shane. All of the men had turned their attention toward Andrea, seemingly interested in hearing the story. The women however, had already heard it and were watching with only mild interest. Andrea took a deep breath.

"My father gave it to me when I went to work as a nurse during the war. Said I shouldn't be that close to the front without protection."

"You were a nurse during the war?" Dale asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I wanted to do something. We had an older brother who had joined the army and I wanted to do my part."

"So your brother inspired you to become a nurse?"

"I guess. I think I would have done so whether he had joined or not though."

"I see."

"What happened to your brother?" Shane asked.

"He died at the battle of Shiloh." Andrea said sadly.

Shane nodded, "I'm sorry to hear that." Everyone was silent for a moment. Amy tried not to let the memory overwhelm her in sadness.

"Anyway we came to Georgia to visit some family," Andrea continued, breaking the silence, "That's when it happened and that's why we're here."

"We don't even know if our parents are alive." Amy said softly. Andrea put a hand on her shoulder snd squeezed it.

"Well whether they are or not they would want you to live." Shane said gruffly. "So that's what we're gonna do."

Andrea changed the subject, "So what about you Dale? What did you do before the turn?"

"Me? I was a reporter." Dale responded, pushing back his black feathered hat. Andrea laughed.

"So that's why you're so full of questions."

"I suppose so."

"What did you report on?" Amy asked.

"Oh lot's of things. During the war I reported on battles and skirmishes. After the war I spent my time trying to figure out why it happened. You know what was the reason each person was fighting."

"What did you discover?" Lori asked from where she sat on the other side of Andrea.

"That the war was the most devastating thing that ever happened to us." Dale said gravely, "Until now."

Amy took a drink from her canteen and stood up. The conversation was getting far too gloomy for her.

"Hey where are you going?" Andrea asked.

"Umm, I gotta go relieve myself." She whispered.

"Oh. Sorry. Go do your thing."

The clouds began to move in as Amy made her way to the latrine pit. Dark, gloomy clouds and Amy tried to shake the feeling of doom building up in the bottom of her stomach. As she passed through the woods the rain started to come down. The latrine pit smelled horrible and Amy did her best to do her business as quickly as possible. Another pit would have be dug soon she thought. Something rustled in the leaves behind her. Amy looked around and thought she saw a small figure moving through the trees. Probably one of the children. "Hold on!" she called, "I'll be finished in just a moment!" She turned back around. The rustling continued and this time it was louder. It seemed like it was getting closer. "I said -!" Amy yelled as she turned around again and stopped abruptly. Out of the trees came a child; but it wasn't a child, it was dead. Amy stared in utter horror as the small walker shuffled toward her. Another one appeared and then another. Dozens came out of the trees their small bodies ambling forward, their tiny hands reached out toward her in hunger. Amy screamed.

* * *

Carl's head snapped around when he heard the blood curdling scream echo through the air. "What the hell was that?" Shane demanded rising to his feet and grabbing his rifle.

"Amy!" Andrea cried. She jumped to her feet and took off after her sister.

"Andrea! Stay here!" Shane yelled. Andrea kept running. "Everybody we stay right here until we know what's going on!" Shane commanded. Lori ran to Carl and grabbed him holding him to her. More screams came from where Andrea and Amy had gone. Carl stared intently through the pouring rain and after a moment he saw both of them running in between the white tents toward them.

"Walkers!" Andrea shouted.

"How many?" Shane asked as they arrived at the camp fire.

"I don't know I didn't see them."

"Amy! How many were there?"

"They were kids.. They were all kids." rambled the younger blonde. She was trembling. "All of them kids."

"How many were there!?" Shane shouted.

"I don't know! A lot of them. They were all kids!"

"There they are!" someone shouted and Carl looked. There they were, dozens of them maybe more. All of them were no bigger than Carl was. It was like an army of little people was charging them.

"Oh my God." his mom said in horror.

"Everybody get to Dale's wagon!" Shane yelled. Carl and his mom obeyed immediately and ran toward where Dale's large wagon was parked on the camp's high-ground. Behind him Carl heard the loud sound of a rifle shot followed by several smaller shots. Lori lifted Carl into the wagon and then followed him. Dale was right behind them. After he got in he began to cut the canvas covering off so people could enter from the sides. Carl saw Shane hop on the wagon and begin to reload his rifle. The small walkers were coming at them through the tents now. Jimmy and his family climbed into the wagon next while Carol loaded Sophia in from the side. Andrea, Amy and Jacqui followed. Theodore covered them swinging an ax at the walkers as they got in. He decapitated one of the children before jumping in himself. Ed was the last to get there, his extra weight slowing him down. He leaped for the wagon catching on to the edge of it, but his grip on the wet wood slipped and he fell down to the mud below. Before he could even call for help the little walkers were on top of him clawing and chewing at his flesh. Ed screamed as he died and Carl watched in horror as blood and guts squirted out of his body.

On all sides of the wagon the dead children growled and scratched at the wood in hunger. Lori held Carl to her chest but he couldn't stop looking at them. They were just like him but dead. Just his size but with pale gray skin. Carol and Sophia were in the center of the wagon crying. Another shot rang out and Carl saw smoke rise from Shane's rifle's barrel. Suddenly Carl heard the sound of horse hooves. He looked up and out of nowhere the beautiful red mustang appeared. On it's back Daryl Dixon was firing arrows into the crowd of little walkers around them. Another shot rang out and Carl saw his father appear followed by Glenn and James. Rick cocked and fired his weapon in rapid succession killing multiple walkers. Hearing the shots some of them turned and started to go after him. Carl wanted to call out and make the walkers come back to him but he didn't have to. Shane's weapon fired again and Andrea had reloaded her pistol and was firing as well. Confused, the walkers began going in both directions. Daryl, Andrea, and Rick continued to pick them off. Soon there were only five walkers left. Andrea fired her last shot striking one in the head and another fell to Daryl's bow. Rick, Glenn and James charged the remaining three. The walkers were dead within seconds. It was over.

* * *

 **So that chapter was fun to write. It may be my favorite chapter yet. What are your immediate reactions? Did any thoughts or feelings leap to the front of your mind? Please let me know!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone thanks for tuning in. I love all the reviews I got last chapter. Like I said it was one of my favorites and I enjoyed reading all your reactions.**

 **Guest reviwer!  
Dione Robertson:**

 **Greetings right back at ya! I have a Canadian viewer so cool!  
Merle might have been planning to get Rick and Glenn killed. He certainly wouldn't have minded if it happened.**

 **It's fascinating that you're taught that the war was about economics and not slavery. Here in America we focus more on the slavery aspect. Of course considering that slavery is our nation's greatest shame that makes sense. In truth slavery and economics were very closely linked considering that the southern economy was based on cotton plantations that relied on slaves. So both version are technically true. The characters in my story are going to discuss the many different view points and causes of the conflict. I would love to hear your opinion on those when they come up.**

 **Good question about the natives! I don't know how Natives were treated up in Canada (and now I'm curious) but in the U.S. we didn't treat them so well. By the time the U.S. became a nation the vast majority of the natives had died due to disease. Those that remained were shunted on to reservations that were mostly west of the Mississippi. As result there would be very few natives in Georgia at the time of my story. That being said, I fully intend to have one or two make an appearance and the issues of anti Native American racism will be explored in depth. I'm trying really hard not to go on a full detailed rant about this issue and spoil what I plan to be a fascinating part of my story. :D**

 **I hope you enjoy the update and continue to let me know your opinion.**

* * *

Lori kissed him. He kissed her back his lips melting into hers. Shane had never felt anything like this before. He had slept with many women before the turn. Married women, single women, prostitutes. Shane had enjoyed all of them but some how Lori was different. She wasn't experienced or exceptionally beautiful, but it all seemed to mean so much more. Shane felt a calmness when he was with her. He felt like he was at home.

As they kissed Shane began to pull at the strings on the front of her dress. Lori reciprocated by unbuttoning the collar of his shirt and lifting it over his head. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders as he slipped her dress off. Shane admired her in all her beauty. He smiled and leaned in for another kiss -. All of a sudden he woke up with a start. The darkness surrounded him in his small tent. He wasn't kissing Lori. No, she was in her tent probably kissing her husband or if not that sleeping next to him with his arm wrapped around her.

Shane tried to suppress the envy he felt rising inside him. He was happy his best friend was alive. Of course he was. Shane had only grown to love Lori and Carl because of Rick. All he had been trying to do was take care of them like his best friend would've wanted him to. How was he supposes to know that acting like a husband and father would make him feel like one? It wasn't his fault Lori was such an amazing woman. Rick didn't know how lucky he was. Hell, Shane wasn't even sure that Rick knew how to take care of his wife. The woman turned out to be more aggressive than Shane ever suspected and he couldn't imagine Rick ever matching that energy.

Shane shook himself, grabbed his coat and crawled out of his tent. Dawn had yet to break and only the dim predawn light illuminated the camp. He heard soft voices coming from the fire pit and he made his way toward them. When he got there Shane saw Rick standing still in the dark with Lori flush up against his back, her arms wrapped around him. Shane forced his face to remain neutral and walked over to them.

"Good morning Shane." Rick said nodding to him. Shane just nodded back staying silent.

"I'm going to go check on Carl." said Lori disengaging herself from Rick.

"Okay." Rick told her. She didn't say anything to Shane as she passed him and Shane watched her go with annoyance. The two men stood there in silence for a long moment. "I've never done anything like that before." Rick said quietly.

"What?" Shane asked. Had he done something new with Lori? If so he didn't want to hear about it.

"When I first saw a walker it was the stuff of nightmares, but when it came to fighting them it was just like the war. Easier even; the walkers are already dead it's harder to shoot a man. But yesterday? That was something else. I've never shot a child before, alive or dead. I know it shouldn't matter - it _doesn't_ matter but still... it was harder."

Rick was talking about the incident the day before. Of course he was. "We're gonna have to get used to it." Shane told him, "There will come a time when we have to do something like it again."

"I know." Rick took a sharp breath. "We should leave Shane." he said, his voice quiet again.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"This place isn't safe Shane. We need find somewhere else."

"You said yourself that Merle brought those walkers here. If it wasn't for him nothing would have happened. This is the safest place we're gonna find."

"That's not the problem Shane. We don't have enough food. That lake isn't going to keep providing us fish and Atlanta is getting increasingly more difficult to enter. If we don't find someplace else we are gonna starve to death."

"No. That's stupid." said Shane, "Rick the moment we leave this camp we are sitting ducks. What happens when our little convoy gets ambushed by walkers on the road. We won't be able to run, our wagons won't be able to turn around and we'll all die."

"We can't stay here." Rick insisted, "We need to find a place where we can grow food, maybe where other people are. We can't be the only survivors."

"Maybe not, but we _are_ surviving. We leave this camp and we risk that!"

"We don't have a choice."

"I disagree Rick."

Shane and Rick stared at each other for a long moment. "Okay." Rick told him, "Let's talk to the group. Let them decide."

* * *

Dale watched the voting proceedings with interest and trepidation. The problem was what was going on here wasn't a vote in the traditional sense. There was no agreement that the majority would rule. Just because more people voted to do one thing did not mean the rest would do it. Furthermore Dale feared the vote would divide along racial lines. The odds of this ending in disaster was very high.

"We need to leave." Rick said loudly, "Even if we could be sure that walkers would never come here again we are going to starve. Atlanta is too dangerous to enter anymore and we aren't able to hunt enough to feed ourselves. We need to find a place that has more food, maybe a farm where we can grow some ourselves, wherever we go we can't stay here."

"I disagree." Shane stated, "The moment we leave this camp we are vulnerable. We can fortify this camp make sure what happened yesterday never happens again and we can expand our foraging trips, try other places in the area. Even if Atlanta is too dangerous we can find other places to get food." Dale watched carefully as everyone took the information in. Andrea spoke first.

"I'm with Rick. I don't want to live in this place anymore."

"Me too." said Theodore. Jimmy eyed the freedman with animosity.

"What if there isn't any place that's better than this?" he asked.

"I believe that there is." Rick told him, "I have to. Tell me Jimmy can you imagine your children growing up in this place? Not knowing if they're going to get enough to eat the next day? I can't and that's why I plan to go."

"Do you truly believe there is somewhere safe for us ?" Carol asked in a quiet voice that sounded as if she had been crying.

"I do." said Rick, "We cannot be the only survivors, there have to be others. If we can find them we can find a safe place for us."

"Okay." the gray haired woman said, "We'll go with you."

"I agree with Rick." Glenn put in, "I don't know if we can get food from any other towns but I do know if we keep going into Atlanta we're going to keep losing people."

"I'm with Glenn." James said curtly. Dale watched as Jimmy struggled with his decision.

"What do you think Daryl?" Jimmy asked.

"What you askin' me for?" the woodsman asked sourly, "I don' know." He gave Rick a sideways look, "I guess maybe we should go. The woods around this place are dead. There ain't been a deer for _miles_."

Jimmy took a deep breath, "Alright then, my family and I are with you Rick." Rick nodded. There was a long silence as they all waited for someone else to speak.

"What's your opinion Dale?" Shane asked. Everyone looked a him and Dale realized that he had yet to say anything.

"Oh, I'm going with the groups decision." he said diplomatically.

Shane nodded solemnly, "Alright, I guess we're going then. Where _are_ we going Rick?"

"I think we should go east to the ocean. Augusta might have been able to get help from overseas."

"We could check Athens as well." Jimmy put in. "It's not far off course on the way to Augusta.

"We could." Rick agreed, "While we're passing it we can send a couple people to give it a quick look."

"Sounds like we have a plan." said Lori, "When do we leave?"

"The sooner the better." Rick answered, "I say we pack up everything we need and head out today. Does anybody have a map?"

"I do." Dale told him.

"May I see it? Let's get a route planned out and see how far we can get today."

"I'll go get it now." Dale started back toward his wagon. Perhaps the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

 **What did you think of the chapter? We had two new POVs today. Does hearing Shane's thoughts make him more likeable or less? And what do you think of Dale?**

 **Note: You may have noticed that Lori, Jacqui, Amy and Jimmy's wife didn't "vote" during this chapter. That's because at the moment the idea of the male "head of household" making the decisions is still customary for them. This will break down over time and in fact it's already starting to with Andrea and Carol speaking up. However they're only speaking at the moment because there is no male family member for either of them. Eventually, (along with many other things) the absurdity of these customs will give way to need and practicality.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello gang!  
Today I've done another Carl POV. You get to see how what interests him (everything) and how his mind works. Also got some fun history in there which I expand upon further on my tumblr so be sure to check that out. :)**

 **Guest reviewer:  
Courtgirl26:  
**

 **Shane's brand of leadership has always been lacking in a few areas. And yeah he didn't fight because literally everyone was against him. Shane's envy will eat at him slowly but he'll start acting fairly soon.  
** **Having the People of Color side with Rick was intentional and I'm glad you mentioned it. As soon as Rick mentioned he got shot preventing a lynching he became an unspoken (and perhaps unintentional) ally to them. They're certainly more inclined to follow him than Shane.**

* * *

Three wagons traveled down the road to from Atlanta. From the sky they lay out in a pattern with the smallest wagon and the least draft animals in the front and the largest wagon with the most animals was in the rear. It made a pretty picture but to those on the ground it wasn't so pretty. Carl walked on sore feet behind his father and Shane. His parents had told him that he could ride in the wagon if he wanted to but Carl wanted to walk with his father. Keeping up wasn't a problem because the wagons were going so slow the adults had to slow down to let them keep up. Carl could walk along with them at an easy pace. That didn't change the time he spent on his feet though nor did it help the fact that his legs were tired and his feet were sore. Carl didn't complain though. If he did his mom would probably insist he get in the wagon with Jimmy's kids.

Jimmy was driving the second wagon with his family in the back. Amy sat with them with a pale quiet look on her face. It was hauled by four mules and carried food and ammunition as well as people. The first wagon was driven by James. It was hauled by the two draft horses he always drove and it carried much the same cargo as Jimmy's wagon but less of it. Dale took the rear with his large covered wagon hauled by eight mules. Carol and Sophia rode with him along with the majority of the camp gear and supplies. Dale still fascinated Carl. His hat was black and made of felt. It was of the same style that all the other men wore (except for his father) but it was sleeker and it had a small red feather tucked into the headband. Carl also noticed that the white haired man liked to watch everyone else just like he did. That intrigued Carl.

Most of the group was on foot. Rick and Shane were in the front next to James' wagon. Carl walked behind them and his mom was next to him. Behind them trailed Andrea, Theodore, Glenn and Jacqui. Daryl wasn't in sight. Carl turned his attention to Shane and his father. His dad was wearing his Boss hat that he had worn on the farm. Carl also noticed he was wearing a belt like the Dixon brothers and his gun now hung off his right hip. Somehow the belt and gun made his father walk differently and Carl though that it looked cool. Both his father and Shane had their rifles slung over the backs. As the two men walked side by side Carl noticed that the two guns looked different. The wood on Shane's gun was a lighter brown than his father's and the metal on Shane's was black whereas Rick's was silver. Carl didn't know if that meant anything but he was curious.

"Hey dad?" he asked coming up to his father's left.

"Yeah Carl?"

"Why do your gun and Uncle Shane's look different?" Carl watched as his father looked at Shane and both of them began to chuckle.

"Shane's gun is a different type of rifle." Rick said, "We've been arguing for years about which one is better."

"Yours is better?" Carl asked. Shane snorted.

"I think so." Rick told him. Carl looked at both men consideringly.

"What makes them different?" he asked.

"Well first of all they're made by two different countries. Mine is a Springfield rifle and Springfields are-" he paused, " _were_ \- made in America."

"They were made by Yankees." Shane interrupted.

"Yes they were made by Yankees. Your Uncle Shane's rifle is called an Enfield rifle and it was made in England."

"Okay. So what else makes them different?"

"Well, one difference is that the Enfield rifles are made with a slightly smaller barrel and that affects how they're loaded."

"Does that mean they have to use smaller balls?" Carl asked, "So they fit in the barrel?"

"No. That's because balls are always made smaller than the the barrel. You see every time you fire a rifle the powder gets the barrel all dirty. If you had a ball that was the exact same size as the barrel that powder would prevent you from being able to load it. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." Carl told him.

"Now just because we don't have to clean the barrel every time we shoot doesn't mean we never have to. Eventually, after shooting for a while, the powder builds up and we can't load the gun anymore. At that point you have to clean it before you can use it again. Since the Enfield has a smaller barrel than a Springfield you have to clean it more often than you do a Springfield."

"Only if you're using Burton cartridges." Shane countered. "If you're using a Pritchett style cartridge it's a whole different story."

"What are Burton and Pritchett Cartridges?" Carl asked with interest.

"Go ahead and tell him Shane." Rick said.

"Let me borrow one?" Shane asked.

"Yeah." Carl's dad opened up a pouch on the front of his belt and handed a paper wrapped cartridge to Shane. Shane rolled it between his fingers before holding it out for Carl to see.

"This bulky thing is the American style or Burton cartridge. Do you know how it works?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Carl, "you rip the paper open and pour the powder into the barrel. Then you remove the ball from the paper and push it down the barrel right?"

"That's right." Shane told him. He reached into his own cartridge pouch and pulled out a much different looking paper cartridge. The paper was wrapped in a very smooth cylinder around the ball and it was yellow at one end.. "This is a Pritchett style cartridge, it's what the English use and it's made specifically for Enfield rifles. You see how carefully it's wrapped?" Carl nodded. "That's because you never actually take the paper off the ball. You rip of the end and poor the powder into the rifle just like with an American cartridge but then you stick the ball with the paper down into the barrel. The paper is carefully wrapped because it needs to fit perfectly into the barrel. "

"Why?"

"You see how the paper is yellow at the end?"

"Yes."

"That's because it's coated in beeswax. When you fire the rifle the paper goes up the barrel with the ball and it cleans the barrel as it goes. When the paper and ball reach the end of the barrel they separate. The ball flies toward the target and paper falls to the ground. With Pritchett cartridges you can shoot all day and never have to clean your gun."

"Wow." Carl looked at his dad. "Why don't you use Pritchett cartridges dad?" Rick chuckled.

"Because the barrel sizes are different. The paper has to be totally flush with the inside of the barrel so that it cleans it. Unfortunately for your Uncle Shane English cartridges aren't made in America so they have to be shipped all the way form England."

"True," Shane admitted, "But if I ever run out I can still use American ammunition. That's what makes Enfield rifles better than Springfields."

"Why do you think Springfields are better dad?" Carl asked. So far the Enfield sounded much better.

"Because of how they're made son. Most Enfields are made by hand while Springfields are all made by machine."

"Are machine made guns better?"

"Not necessarily. Shane's Enfield is hand made and it shoots just as well as my Springfield. The problem is when things break. If something on my Springfield breaks I can find a replacement part easily. Every other Springfield was made by the same machines and every part on every Springfield is the exact same. I can just find another Springfield and take the part I need from it. You can't do that with hand made guns. It doesn't matter how good he is no gunsmith can make two guns the exact same way and if you have hundreds of gunsmiths all making the same weapon it's pointless to even try. If Shane's gun needs a replacement part he has to go a gunsmith and have him make an entirely new part."

Carl walked by the two men in silence pondering everything Shane and his father had told him. "I think the Springfield is better." he said.

"Yeah?" Rick asked.

"There aren't any gunsmiths anymore."

Carl's dad stared at him for a second. "You're right there son."

"Nah. Enfield's still better." Shane said.

"Oh come on!" Rick cried, "Surely now you must admit that given the circumstances the Springfield is better!"

"Handmade guns are better than machine made."

"Sure, whatever."

Carl watched the two men joke with each other with amusement. After a while he spoke again, "Dad can you teach me how to shoot?"

Rick looked at his son carefully, "I think that would probably be a good idea. Let me talk with your mom first but I think I can do that."

"Great!" Carl smiled.

"He's gonna be too small to shoot a rifle." Shane said, "If only we had a carbine that'd be perfect."

"Yeah well carbines are hard to find. I'll just teach Carl how to shoot my pistol."

"Whats a carbine?" Carl asked.

"A carbine is like a rifle but shorter son." Rick told him, "They're almost as accurate as a regular rifle too but they're not very common."

"If you ever find a carbine can I use it?"

Rick opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of horse-hooves. At that moment Daryl came around the bend riding his mustang. He came right up to them and dismounted. Carl still thought the red-brown horse was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"What'd you see?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Decatur is pretty well empty." Daryl said. "Shouldn't be a problem getting these wagons through it."

"Good." Carl's dad pulled a map out of his coat pocket and studied it for a moment. "We should be there in less than an hour." He told Shane, "We'll push through the town and camp on the other side just to be safe." Shane grunted in acknowledgement. "I'm gonna go let Dale and Jimmy and Dale know. Can you tell James and the rest?"

"Yeah I got it." Shane replied. Carl's dad turned and walked back toward the other wagons.

* * *

Amy didn't react to the news that they would be stopping soon. It wouldn't change how uncomfortable she was. Sam and Eric seemed excited though. The two boys looked to the arrival of a new campsite with the enthusiasm of a daring adventure. Amy tried to match their excitement but couldn't. Throughout the trip she kept getting called back to the day before. That moment when she had seen the first child walker. Then when the whole group had come out of the forest and chased her. After the fight all the dead children lay on the ground surrounding the wagon with bullet holes in their heads. Nothing had gotten better and now the images were burned into her memory. She couldn't forget them.

The wagons came to a stop about an hour later and Amy followed Jimmy and his family out of the wagon. "Alright everyone!" Rick called, "I'm going to head into Decatur with Glenn and James to see if we can find any supplies. The rest of you stay here and get the camp set up. Shane will tell you where everything needs to go." With that he left.

Amy did what she could to help set the camp up. Tents were set up, the animals were unharnessed and tied up where they had access to grass. Lastly two fires were lit and food was prepared. When it was all done Amy sat down next to one of the fires and silently ate her food. Andrea sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Amy sank into her sisters embrace.

"You doin' alright?" Andrea asked. Amy nodded and Andrea hugged her closer. "I think Rick's right." she said, "I think we'll find a safe place." Amy didn't respond. How could there be a safe place after what had happened? There was no safe place from your mind.

* * *

 **So another chapter without a Rick POV. I'm pretty certain I've completed some kind of record. :p**

 **What did you guys think of Carl's observations of the convoy? What did you think about the differences between Shane and Rick's guns? Which one would you choose?  
As mentioned in the chapter the Springfield rifle was made in the north but it was popular on both sides of the war. The Enfield was also used on both sides of the war but it was more popular in the South. The South had limited manufacturing capacity and thus imported a lot of weapons from Britain. The Springfield was still the most popular rifle in the South but the Enfield was solid second. If you want to see the rifles and learn more about them and their ammunition I've posted about them on my tumblr blog. My username is _JasonBlakePosts_ and the blog is titled _Th_ e _Ricktatorship Series_. **

**Let me know what you thought in the reviews!**


	14. Chapter 14

Shane couldn't sleep. Nothing felt right. Nothing _was_ right. The darkness in his tent and the coldness of the night didn't help.

Something rustled outside his tent and Shanes hands automatically went for his rifle. He poked his head outside and saw the slim figure of a woman exiting the camp. Instantly he knew it was Lori. He didn't see her face, and it was too dark to see the color of her hair but Shane could tell it was her. Quietly, he crawled out of his tent. Once out he glanced around. There were no other sounds in the camp. After a moment of listening Shane silently followed the direction Lori had left.

As he neared the edge of the road Shane saw Lori standing there; still and quiet in the dim light in the dim light. Even in the darkness she looked radiant. "You've been avoiding me." Shane said as he came upon her. Lori jumped and spun around to face him. When she saw him anger flashed across her face and she stepped back.

"Why the hell do you think that is?" She demanded. "My husband is back."

"You think I'm not glad about that?" Shane asked feeling even more upset.

"You were the one who came back claiming he was dead!"

"He got shot in the head Lori!" Shane whispered forcefully, "I saw a man pull the trigger and blood fly out of my best friend's head! What the hell was I supposed to think?!" He took a deep breath, "And wha-what? Do you think I said he was dead so I could get with you? Lori I never even _looked_ at you before Rick was shot. That wasn't _meant_ to happen. I fell for you and.."

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did. How else did it happen? How else did I end up sleeping with the wife of a man I love?"

"You sleep with everybody Shane."

"You were different. You _know_ you were different. And the only reason you're avoiding me is because you felt something too." Lori reacted as if she'd been slapped.

"That is _not_ true." She declared.

"It is and you know it." Shane stepped closer to her. He reached out a hand to cup her cheek. Lori flinched away from him and stepped further back.

"I _don't_ love you Shane." She turned around and walked quickly back to the camp. Shane watched her go, hurt and anger rising in his chest.

* * *

CRACK! Smoke rose out of Rick's Colt pistol. "Here now you try." he said and handed the revolver to his son. Carl took the pistol and cocked it. "Nope, put it on half cock." Rick told him. Carl corrected the mistake and then took a brass cap out of his pocket. He carefully placed the cap on the correct nipple and then aimed the weapon. Then Carl cocked it and pulled the trigger. White smoke came out of the barrel once more. "Well look at that." Rick commented, "You hit the target." Carl grinned.

"Can I fire it again?" he asked.

"Absolutely. You're gonna fire all remaining four shots and then you're gonna learn how to load it."

Carl was a natural shot. The target Rick had set up for him wasn't that far away but he didn't expect Carl to hit it every time. When the gun was empty Rick took the pistol away form his son.

"Here's how you load it." He said, he reached into his coat and pulled out a packet of Colt ammo. Rick opened up the packaging to reveal six pistol cartridges, "These cartridges are different from the rifle cartridges Shane showed you yesterday. You don't rip them open and pour the powder in. You load the powder and ball into the cylinder still wrapped in the paper."

"How does that work?" Carl asked with confusion. Rick smiled.

"The paper in these cartridges is a special type of paper. It's called nitrate paper and it burns much more easily than regular paper. When you fire the pistol the explosion from the cap burns right through the nitrate paper and ignites the powder."

"Coool!" said Carl looking at the nitrate cartridges carefully. "Why don't we use them in rifles?"

"Good question." Rick told him, "It's because nitrate paper is more expensive than regular paper and we don't need it as much with rifles. Ripping open a paper cartridge once every time you load isn't that big of a deal. But when you're loading a revolver you have to do it _six_ times and ripping open a cartridge to pour your powder for each of your six shots wastes a lot of time your enemy can spend shooting at you."

"Okay." Carl said nodding, "I still think it would be better to have nitrate paper for rifle cartridges."

Rick chuckled, "It would be; but there's not much we can do about it. So how about you learn how load this thing." Rick stuck one of the cartridges into one of the cylinder holes and rotated it so the ball was underneath the barrel. "See this lever?" he asked grabbing the small loading lever that was connected to the barrel's belly.

"Yeah."

"You rotate the ball under it here, and then you pull down on the lever pushing the ball into the cylinder." Rick demonstrated. The lead ball was larger than the cylinder hole and a small ring of lead was left on the outside of the cylinder as Rick pushed it in. "Now you do it." Rick said handing the colt and ammo pack to Carl. Carl accepted the gun and balls and proceeded to load the five remaining rounds "Now that you've done that." Rick told his son, "You're gonna want to cap all six rounds."

"But you had me cap each one right before I shot them." Carl objected.

"Yes. I wanted you to get used to doing that. You need to always make sure that your nipple is capped. If you fire a gun without capping it you can damage the nipple. You damage the nipple and you might as well be holding a club. With a pistol it's good to have all six rounds capped from the start that way you don't have to waste time capping every time you fire. However, sometimes a cap or two will fall off which is why you need to be prepared to cap it every time you pull the trigger." Carl nodded.

"Why are we shooting round balls instead of the pointy ones you and Shane use?" he asked as he proceeded to cap all of the nipples.

"Because the balls Shane and I use are made specially for rifles. Pistols don't need to use those balls and the round ones are easier to make."

"Why do rifles need special balls?"

Rick chuckled once more at his son's inquisitiveness. "Rifles have special barrels. The inside of a rifle has spiraling grooves that spin the ball on it's way down the barrel. That causes the ball to be more stable in flight which allows it go further and shoot more accurately. The problem with using round balls is that they have to be the exact same caliber as the riffle barrel so that the grooves can engage the ball. Remember what Shane and I told you about the ball being too tight?"

"You can only shoot it once." Carl answered, "And then it gets too dirty for another ball to fit."

"Exactly. The ball that we use for rifles is called a 'Minie ball' and is shaped like a hollow cone. When the powder explodes behind it the base of the cone expands causing it to touch the grooves of the rifle. That means you can make the ball small enough to be loaded but it will still expand enough to engage the rifling."

" _That's_ cool." said Carl.

"Yeah itis." Rick agreed, "Now hurry up and fire those six shots. We need get on the road again."

"Yes dad."

Carl pointed the pistol, cocked it and fired. He hit all six shots again.

* * *

The second day of the journey began. James, Jimmy and Dale drove the wagons again. James was unarguably the best at handling the two draft horses and nobody disputed his position on the wagon. Rick didn't know if the kid was just naturally good with horses or if he had driven that particular pair before. Jimmy and Dale each owned the wagons they were driving and thus demanded their right to drive them. Or rather Jimmy demanded. Nobody even considered the idea of making the older Dale walk. On the other hand Rick knew that the coloreds were eyeing Jimmy angrily. It had been agreed that women and children could also ride if they chose to. So far only the Peletiers, Amy, and Jimmy's family had ridden. That would change. eventually.

It was about midday when Rick estimated they were an hour and half out from the small settlement of Rock Bridge. He walked over to Daryl who was in front of the lead wagon walking next to his horse. "We're about three miles out from Rock Bridge." Rick told him and pointed to the settlement's location on Dale's map. You think you can ride ahead and check it out?"

"Yeah sure." Daryl said curtly.

"You know I can go scout myself if you let me use your horse."

"Nobody rides bandit but me." Daryl responded and mounted his mustang.

"You want to at least take my gun this time?" Rick asked unholstering his Colt.

"Nah. I'm good." Daryl spurred his horse forward and rode off down the road. Rick re-holstered his gun and watched the woodsman go. He didn't like relying on the former Klansman so much. Rick waited for Shane to catch up to him and resumed walking down the road.

They were a little over a mile from the town when Daryl returned. He rode right up to Rick and dismounted in one fluid motion. "We might have a little problem." He said.

"What's wrong?" Asked Shane.

"We got walkers in Rock Bridge. Not a lot, but enough I wouldn't want to waste my time there."

"Can we make it through?" Rick asked.

"They're pretty well spread out so maybe. I don't know how fast those wagons can go but get them going at top speed and maybe pick off a few walkers here and there you should be good."

"Everybody halt!" Rick shouted. James heard him first and brought the lead wagon to a stop. The other wagons followed suit. Rick waited patiently for everyone exit the wagons and come over to him. When the whole group standing around him Rick spoke, "Up ahead is a small village that has a large group of walkers in it." he stated calmly. Immediately there was panic.

"What are we going to do?" Asked Carol.

"Maybe coming here wasn't a good idea." Said someone else.

"Can we back track and find another route?" asked Glenn.

"Everyone quiet down!" Shane yelled.

"What we are going to do." Rick continued calmly, "Is rest the animals. We're going to sit here a couple hours and let them rest so that when we push through the town we can do it as quickly as possible. Daryl assures us the walkers are spread out. So if we move quickly enough we should be able to get through before they can form a herd."

"That's what Daryl says huh?" Theodore said with a hint of disgust, "Pardon me if I don't trust that."

"You got a problem with me?" Daryl demanded angrily he stepped aggressively toward the larger man. Theodore matched Daryl's step to meet him. Rick quickly put himself between the two men.

"I believe Daryl." stated definitively, "He's as interested in getting these wagons through Rock Bridge as we are. But if makes you feel any better Glenn and I are going to forage the town for supplies while the animals rest. If Daryl is wrong we'll see."

Theodore glared at Daryl, "Fine." he said, and backed away but his eyes never left the woodsman.

"Shane you got this?" Rick asked his friend.

"Yeah." Shane responded.

"Good. Glenn! James!" Rick called, "Help me unload your wagon. I want to be able to make a quick getaway if necessary." He walked over to James' wagon and began to remove the items that were carried in it.

Glenn appeared on his right and began to help, "So just like that we're heading into a town full of walkers?" he asked.

"You're the one who can get in and out of a town no fuss."

"That was Atlanta. I know Atlanta. I know it so well I could sleep walk through it. I don't know this place."

"You'll do fine." Rick told him reassuringly.

"Rick." They were interrupted by a soft female voice. Rick turned around and saw Lori standing behind them. "Rick can I speak to you? Alone?" He nodded to Glenn to continue to unload the wagon and walked over to his wife. Lori took his arm and led him away from the group. "Why are you going into town again?" she asked quietly.

"We need supplies." Rick told her, "We don't have all that much food and eventually we're going to run out of ammo."

"But why do _you_ have to go?" She insisted, "Let Glenn and James do it. They were doing before you came along."

"First rule of leading an expedition." Rick told her, "Your men need to trust that you're not risking their lives unnecessarily. By going with them I make sure they know that."

"That wasn't part of Shane's deal though." She said, "They're supposed to take the risks."

"Yes. And that's why I haven't asked any white people to take any. Except for Daryl but that's just because he's the only one with a horse. But Lori, colored people make more than half of our men now. If I continued to send them on the riskiest missions by themselves how long do you think it is before they leave with half our supplies or more?" Lori looked at him doubtfully.

"I don't like you going."

"I know and I'm sorry. I know I promised I would stay in camp but that was when I thought the camp was safe. It isn't and I'm the one who wanted to leave. I have to show everyone that I, personally, am willing to do everything necessary to make sure we succeed."

"Fine." Lori said relenting, "Just be careful okay?"

"Yes ma'am." Rick leaned in and kissed his wife. He smiled at her before turning around and heading back to James' wagon. By the time he got there the two younger men had already finished unloading it and were waiting for him.

"How are the horses James?" Rick asked.

"They're doing good Sir."

"Can they take the trip and still make a dash through the town afterward?"

"Absolutely Sir. They can do that and still beat all the other wagons while they're at it. They're in better shape than the mules Sir."

"Good to hear." Rick told him, "Let's go."

* * *

The trip into Rock Bridge was much quicker and easier than the ones to Atlanta had been. Glenn went through his usual routine. He stayed low and close to buildings and chose their routes very carefully. At every intersection he stopped and checked for walkers before picking a direction. They didn't have to kill a single walker. Rick noted that Daryl had been right, the walkers were fairly spread out for the most part and making a push through the town was possible.

Methodically Rick and Glenn began to search the empty houses. They found far more in Rock Bridge than they had in Decatur. Clothes, dried food, Glenn even found an old army belt. The real jackpot though, came when Rick stumbled upon a shotgun with a boatload of ammo and then in the next house over Glenn got his hands on a Colt revolver. By the time they were riding in the wagon back to the convoy Rick had found a second Colt and the two men were carrying more ammo in their packs than they were food.

When they arrived back at the camp the presence of the new weapons caused an uproar. There was immediate excitement and conflict.

"There are already three white people armed in this group." Theodore stated, "These three should be given to Glenn, James and me."

"The fuck they should!" said Jimmy, "I have a family to protect. I need one of those guns."

"I have a family as well!" Theodore responded, "And James and Glenn are always risking their asses heading into town. If anybody needs weapons it's them!"

Jimmy looked at Rick, "There is no way in hell you can possibly consider arming these two niggers and the Chinaman before giving one to me!" He said incredulously.

"No one is getting any guns just yet!" Shane cut in definitively, "Not until you've been trained."

"We're about to go through a town full of walkers and you don't want us armed?" Theodore demanded, "Are you trying to get rid of us?!"

"If I wanted to get rid of you I'd shoot you." Shane told him, "However I do _not_ want a bunch of amateurs firing weapons when they shouldn't be and getting me killed."

"What about me?" Jimmy asked, "I fought the Yankees. I know how to shoot a gun."

"When was the last time you practiced?" Rick asked him.

"I've gone hunting occasionally with some friends."

"But did you practice regularly?"

"No."

"So you haven't had practice since the war. Nobody gets any firearms until they've gone through training and have been approved by either Shane or myself."

"And when are we gonna do this training?" Asked Theodore.

"I've already started training my son in the mornings before we head out. We'll simply add the rest of you to that schedule."

Dale spoke up for the first time, "Training everybody at once is bound to make a lot of noise. Are we sure that's a good idea?"

"We don't have much of a choice." Rick told him, "We need everyone to be able to shoot. We'll make sure we do it far away from our camp and we'll get everything packed up and ready to go before we start. That way if we do get into any problems we get move out immediately." Dale nodded in acceptance. "Does anybody else have any questions?" Rick asked.

"How do we decide who gets the weapons?" asked Jimmy.

"We'll figure that out later. For now let's focus on getting through Rock Bridge."

* * *

 **Chapter 14 done and in the book! What do you think about revolvers and revolver ammo? What do you think about Shane/Lori? What about Rick/Lori? And finally what about the racial conflict at the end? Do you think it will get worse or better? Is there a possibility it will result in violence?**

 **Note: about combustible pistol cartridges. Rick says that the reason combustible cartridges aren't used in rifles is because of their cost and lack of necessity. I honestly don't know if that's true or not. I do know that combustible paper cartridges were widely used in revolvers but rarely used in rifles. I tried to find out why rifles used them so rarely but couldn't find anything. The reason I give in this chapter is educated guesswork. Nitrate paper was treated with chemicals which would make it more expensive than regular paper but revolvers would have taken so long to load that the extra cost could have been considered worth it.  
If you want see what the weapon looks like, how the loading process worked or just more general information about it I've left a post about "Rick's Pistol" on my tumblr, so check it out. I know I threw a lot of firearm information at y'all this chapter if you have any questions about any of it feel free to ask me either on my tumblr or here on fanfiction.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone! Thank you for you patiently waiting for this update. I'm working on a couple original stories which has taken a bit of my time away. On top of that I've been learning more about writing and honing my skills. So perhaps my time off will have a positive affect on this story.**

 **Guest Reviewers:**

 **Cleo: Lori is definitely not an angel. The real question is what is Rick's opinion? Is he being a good leader because he truly sees the freedmen as equal? Or is he just trying to make sure they don't leave like he told Lori? Keep reading to find out! ;)  
** **Shane is totally a punk; however he's one of those punks that's actually useful up to a point.**

 **Guest: I'm glad you're liking the story :). The update is here!**

* * *

Rick pulled the trigger. CRACK! The walker's forehead burst open and the already dead body fell to the ground. Ricked watched it fall and checked to see how Shane was doing. Shane nodded at him from other side of Jimmy's mules.

"Looks like there's a few coming out from the houses up ahead!" Shane called. Rick looked up ahead of James' wagon where Daryl rode his mustang. Three walkers were heading towards him. As soon as Rick saw them one fell to the ground with an arrow in his head. Daryl knocked a second arrow drew the bow back and released. Two were down. Daryl drew his third arrow, knocked it and within seconds of Rick seeing them all three walkers were dead.

The coast was now clear up front and Rick looked back at the end of the convoy. Andrea was somewhere behind Dale's covered wagon. Rick couldn't see her but what he did see was a steadily growing group of walkers trailing her. At the moment they weren't close enough to be a threat.

The wagons moved quickly through the town and Rick jogged along side them to keep up. As he did so Rick continued to scan his side of the road. They passed through an intersection and Rick could see a couple walkers turn their heads and start walking towards them. They couldn't reach the convoy before it passed so Rick ignored them. CRACK! Rick snapped his head around to look at the other side of the convoy and saw Shane's pistol was smoking. No walkers were standing so Rick turned his attention back to his own side of the road. Vaguely Rick noticed that there were more trees and less houses. He didn't think much of it and watched the woods sharply keeping and eye out for movement. Suddenly Shane broke him out of his reverie.

"I think we're in the clear now!" His friend shouted. Rick glanced around and realized there wasn't a house in sight. No walkers were visible either. He looked back behind the convoy and saw they still had their tail. The group of walkers behind Dales wagon was closer and bigger now.

"Right!" Rick shouted back at Shane, "We got some behind us. Let's go help Andrea clear 'em out!" Shane nodded and the two of them jogged to the rear of the convoy.

When they reached the back of Dale's wagon Andrea was jogging behind it slowly all but ignoring the ten or so walkers nearly fifty yards behind her. When she saw Rick and Shane she gestured at the group, "They're too far away to catch us." She said, "Figured I shouldn't waste the ammo."

"Good thinking." Rick told her, "But it looks like we're in the clear except for that group now and I'd like to let the wagons slow down before we kill the animals." Rick stopped jogging came to a halt. Andrea and Shane stopped with him. "Let's wait until they're about twenty yards away." He said, "Then we'll start shooting." Rick knew a well trained shooter could shoot a colt at fifty yards or more but he wanted to make sure the walkers were well within range. It had been ages since Shane had fired a pistol and Andrea couldn't have as much experience as he himself did.

The walkers neared and Rick fired the first shot. Andrea and Shane followed. Three walkers fell dead. Rick recocked his pistol and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Shots sounded from Shane and Andrea's weapons. Cursing Rick cocked hist Colt again and the gun automatically rotated to the next chamber. Rick pulled the trigger and this time the shot went off and another walker fell. Rick fired two more shots as the other two emptied their pistols next to him. More bodies fell and only two walkers remained a mere twenty feet away. Rick rotated his cylinder back to the misfired chamber and recapped it. He cocked, aimed, and pulled. The cap exploded and the shot cracked striking the lead walker, blood splattering out of it's pale gray forehead. Rick reached for the knife at his waist to deal with the final walker. He took a step forward with the knife in his hand when an arrow whizzed over his head and struck the walker between the eyes. It stumbled, and then fell slowly to the ground. Rick turned around and saw Daryl sitting on the back of his horse holding his bow. The woodsman dismounted from the mustang and walked past Rick, toward the dead the walkers.

"At least I can get this one back." He growled, "Every other arrow I've fired in this mess is _go_ ne."

Rick watched Daryl yank his arrow out of the walker's skull and wipe it on the front of his cutoff shirt. "Hey can you ride back and let the drivers know they can slow down?" he asked

"Yeah fine." Daryl responded gruffly, returning the arrow to its quiver and walking back to his horse

"Thanks; and tell James to set an easy pace. We'll be stopping for the night soon but I want to get near Sheffield before we do."

"Got it." Daryl was mounting his horse. He sat in the saddle and looked down at Rick, "Anything else you want me to say?" He demanded.

"Yeah. Let James know I'll be needing a ride into Sheffield when we get there."

"Anything _el_ se..?"

"No."

"Good." Daryl turned the mustang around spurred the animal forward after the convoy.

* * *

"Make sure you are pointing the gun away from you when you load it!" Shane cried. "And make sure it's pointed DOWN as you cap it. Do NOT fully cock the weapon until you are pointing it at your target!" A ragged line of trainees stood out in the forest with targets of varying distance marked on the trees in front of them. On the left end of the line Theodore held the double barreled shot gun. James stood to his right aiming Rick's Springfield Rifle. and Glenn was beside him holding one of the Colts he and Rick had found. Next to them Jimmy held the other one. At the very end of the line Carl was loading Rick's Colt. Shane refused to let his Enfield be practiced with and it was slung over his shoulder as he went pacing back and forth shouting orders. Dale stood behind the group with Rick and waited for his turn with one of the weapons.

"We're gonna fire one at a time so we don't make too much noise at once _and_ so I can see how each of you do! Shane continued in a loud voice, "Theodore! Fire." The stocky freedman pulled one of his triggers and struck target marked about 30 yards in front of him.

"James fire." Shane ordered. James' target was set at closer to fifty yards as the Springfield rifle was by far the most accurate fire-arm in the line-up. The young freedman hit the tree but missed the target.

"Glenn fire." The Asian's pistol target was set at about 40 yards. He narrowly missed.

"Jimmy." Jimmy pulled his trigger and struck the target.

"Carl. You fire now." Shane said nodding at the boy. After his son's performance the day before Rick had set Carl's target up at a full fifty yards. The boy looked at it, turned around walked about five yards back before spinning back again to aim. He cocked Rick's colt and fired. Wood chips flew out of the tree where the bullet struck; right on target. Shane whistled, "Try that again Carl." He said. Carl recocked the pistol and fired again. Again wood chips flew out of the target. Shane looked at Rick, "I think your son needs to pick a harder target." Rick smiled.

Shane turned to the rest of the group, "Alright, let's get back to it. Theodore! Fire your second shot. James! Start reloading that rifle. The rest of you check your primers and get ready to fire!" As they followed Shane's orders Rick walked over to Carl.

"Looks like you've become quite a sharpshooter." Carl's face flushed at the praise. "Tell you what. I think you deserve the hat." Rick said and taking his Boss hat off he placed it on his son's head.

"Won't you need it?" Carl asked looking up at him from beneath the wide brim.

"Nah. Besides it looks better on you." Rick reached forward and tilted the front of the hat upward so his son could see better. "Now how about you go back to the line and we'll see just how far you can shoot."

* * *

It was mid afternoon when Glenn gave in to his tired legs and climbed up onto the front seat of James' wagon. His friend smiled at him; Glenn was too tired to return it and just leaned back against the back of the seat.

"How long before we reach Monroe?" he asked.

"Rick said it was about eight miles away when we were foraging Broken Arrow," James replied, "So maybe three hours away now."*

Glenn just nodded, "Hopefully we'll get more supplies there than we did in Broken Arrow. Rick says it's the county seat so there ought to be more houses there."

James nodded and the two men rode in silence for a while. Glenn glanced around and took in the convoy from his new position. Shane was still up ahead of them leading the way but Rick had dropped back with his family and was walking next to Jimmy's wagon. Jimmy's kids, Sam and Eric were playing along side of them. Occasionally the two boys would try to get Carl to join them but the young Grimes never did.

Further back, Andrea and Amy were almost out of Glenn's sight. They had been up by Jimmy's wagon earlier but they had been steadily dropping further and further back all day. Now the two sisters were obscured by Dale's team of mules as they walked next to his wagon.

"So what's it like carrying a gun?" James asked. Glenn consciously reached down touched the colt pistol holstered at his hip. Rick had insisted he carry one because he went foraging every day. No one had argued.

"It's kind of scary." Glenn admitted, "I mean this thing can _kill_ a man with the simple pull of a trigger. That's frightening."

"Surely it makes you feel safer though." James insisted.

"I guess... maybe." said Glenn, "I don't know the thing feels dangerous even in my hands. I don't really like it."

"Well think of it like this. You holding that gun helps keep the peace."

"What do you mean?"

"Couldn't you tell? Rick was playing politics with who got the guns."

"Playing politics? _Why_?" Glenn asked, flabbergasted.

"Because the white people don't want us to have guns."

"Okay, but he gave us guns."

"Yeah, but not all of us. Just you and Theodore."

"He's letting you use his rifle."

"He is, but only when we go foraging. I don't blame him. He had three guns to give. The whites want all their people armed before we are, especially Jimmy. But Rick knows we won't stand for that. So he plays politics. He gives Jimmy a gun to appease him and then he gives Theodore the shotgun because he's the most outspoken Negro. Of course that's not enough he can't have only one colored person while five whites are carrying and expect everything to go smoothly. So he gives you a gun and says it's because you risk your life all the time. No one can argue with that, not even Jimmy. Now most of the colored men are armed, only four white people are armed and the two most outspoken men in both groups are armed. Crisis averted. For now anyway."

Glenn considered what James had said. It was obvious Rick had given guns to Jimmy and Theodore to appease them, but Glenn hadn't considered the idea that giving him a gun had been a calculated move. Now that James had said it it seemed rather obvious. Glenn wasn't sure how he felt about that. Unfortunately he didn't have much time to dwell on it. A few hours later they got to Monroe and Glenn had to prepare for their push through the town; and of course his subsequent forage of it.

* * *

 **What did you think of the adventure through Rock Bridge? The logistics of travel is probably the most significant difference between my story and the show. Driving through a small town in a car is insanely easy. Characters in the show constantly rely on the doors and windows of their cars to keep them safe. That doesn't work when your "engine" is a living animal that's unprotected.**

 ***On average a heavy mule drawn wagon will travel two miles an hour. James says that Broken Arrow and Monroe are eight miles apart which would mean about four hours travel time. By the time Glenn asks how long it will take they've been traveling for about an hour so they're about six miles away.**

 **I've posted pictures on my tumblr of the "Boss of the plains hat" that Carl is wearing. The hat was the first of the famous "Stetson" hats that ruled the Wild West. The hat was famous for having a relatively wide brim and being extremely water proof. Advertisements would actually claim that a Boss of the Plains Hat could be used in lieu of a canteen to carry water. There are personal accounts from cowboys that affirm this. To see what it looks like and for more information on it check it out on my tumblr page _jasonblakeposts_. The latest map has been posted there as well and you can see exactly where Rock Bridge is and how far the group has come.  
**


	16. Chapter 16

She stalks through the night, death all around her. She knows they're there. She senses them more than sees them. Hears them; smells them. She knows they're there. The taste of death fills her mouth but she doesn't react. Death is everywhere but she doesn't react. None of it matters because she is not dead. She is not dead and that is all that matters. There is no reason she isn't dead. No reason for her not to be dead. All there is, is a pure animal instinct to stay alive. She reacts with instinct. She fights off the death with instinct. All there is, is death, and she kills death. Her only purpose is to kill death. Unless death leaves her alone then her only purpose is to survive. Yet when death tries to kill her, her only purpose is to kill death. Because there is only ever one purpose. Never two. Just one. She must survive. Then she must kill death; and then she must survive. That is all there is.


	17. Chapter 17

Rifle slung over his shoulder and his head bare Rick marched along side the large canvas covered wagon at the back of the convoy. Up ahead of him he could see Lori sitting in Jimmy's wagon while Carl walked next to it talking with Sophia and Eric. His son looked happy.

"How are you doing?" Rick looked up to see the white bearded Dale peering over the side of his wagon.

"I'm alright." Rick responded, "Figured I'd take a breather from the commotion up front."

Dale chuckled. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah sure."

"Why did you fight?"

"What?" Rick was confused.

"Why did you fight in the war?" Dale asked, "I've seen you with Glenn and the freedmen, you don't despise them the way many others in this camp do. Were you for slavery?"

"No. I wasn't."

"Interesting. So why did you fight?"

"My state was fighting."

"Ah loyalty. That is a commendable reason." The older man paused as if thinking. Rick looked ahead again to see that Carl's companions were now roughhousing. Carl appeared to be watching them but wasn't joining in.

"Tell me Rick," Dale continued, "How far should loyalty go? And to whom should it belong?"

Rick looked back up at him surprise, "Loyalty should be complete." He stated, "And it belongs to one's family, friends and state."

"Why state though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who arbitrarily decided that we should be loyal to a state? Most people are loyal to kings, some people are loyal to countries yet you are loyal to your state. Why?"

Rick pondered Dale's question, "Because my state is the government I live under. It's the government I vote for and I have a responsibility towards it."

"Your responsibility is such that you felt you must fight for something you didn't believe in?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just said you were against slavery yet you fought for it during the war."

"The war wasn't about slavery. It was about keeping a tyrannical government from imposing its will on us."

"And that will was to end slavery. Which you agreed with but because the other people in your state disagreed you fought against it."

"Lincoln wasn't trying to end slavery. He wanted to keep us from seceding, which is something we had _every_ right to do."

"So the war wasn't about slavery but Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation and freed the slaves?"

"What is this?" Rick demanded, "Are you a Southern Yankee?"

"Yes." Dale responded simply. Rick stared at him in astonishment. "Are you going to kick me out of the group now?" Dale asked calmly. Rick continued to stare at him for a long moment before turning his head to face forward again.

"No."

"Are you going to answer my question? If the war wasn't about slavery why were the slaves freed? Why are so many southerners bitter about it?"

"Lincoln didn't care about the slaves."

"Wasn't he famous for saying that our country couldn't survive divided between slave and free states?"

"Yeah, you know what he also said? That if he needed to free all the slaves to save the Union he would do it, if he needed to free no slaves to save the Union he do it and if he could save the Union by freeing some slaves and keeping others in chains he would do that too. Apparently Lincoln thought that it was possible for the Union to survive with slaves after all. He ran on anti-slavery so he would get elected. When he started the war he made his intentions clear. The goal wasn't to free slaves it was to 'save the Union.'"

"Then why did he issue the emancipation proclamation?"

"To prevent England and France from helping us. Lincoln was politician, he lied. The proclamation was made just to make sure anti-slavery countries wouldn't help us."

Dale fell silent again and Rick felt his anger against the Union rising in his chest. "Let me ask you this Rick." said Dale, "Why did the south secede from the Union?"

"To escape tyranny."

"From what I understand Georgia and her sisters threatened to secede if Lincoln was elected."

"That's true."

"Whether he was being honest or not the South's issue with Lincoln was he was anti-slavery. Even _IF_ Lincoln didn't care about slavery - and I think he did - how can you argue that the south didn't secede because of it."

"We did."

"So the war was about slavery?"

"No. We seceded over slavery which is something I didn't agree with. I didn't agree with slavery and I didn't agree with secession. However, we had the right to secede and once we did the North had no right to force us back into the Union."

"So you think that your legal right to secede from the Union was more important than slavery?"

"Yes."

"Rick I've _seen_ you go out to risk your life with Glenn and James. I know you must see them as people. James was a slave. From his very birth his life did not belong to him. He grew up without the freedom to choose his own work, make his own decisions. His _entire_ life and the lives of millions of other slaves in the south were like that. _Millions_ of people Rick and you're saying that your state's right to secede is more important than their freedom from suffering? A right that was only used for the purpose of keeping them in chains." Taking a breath Dale removed his black angled hat and wiped his brow.

Rick was about to respond when suddenly he remembered Morgan. The freedman had said he didn't care whose rights were trampled on or whose house was burnt down; the fact that his people were free made it all worth it. The logic made sense. Yet somehow Rick couldn't see himself bending over and letting an overreaching government take his rights. That was what they fought the revolutionary war for after all.

"I don't know." He said quietly, "I can see why someone might believe that freeing the slaves trumped our rights but I still think I was right to fight against it." Rick waited for Dale to respond but he never got a chance to.

"Hey Rick!" It was Shane, he was walking back toward them waving Dale's map. Giving the old man a quick glance Rick jogged forward to meet his friend.

"What's up?" He asked

"According to the map we're coming up on a cross-road." Shane told him, "Our current route takes us straight to Watkinsville but if we go left we could reach Athens by the end of the day. The city is on the rail-road so there's a chance they've got some kind of refuge there."

"It might be worth a shot."

"I think we should go Rick." Shane rubbed his jaw, "It's a hell of a lot closer than Augusta and if it doesn't pan out we don't even have to back track, there's a road that goes directly from Athens to Watkinsville and we're back on route."

Rick examined the route Shane pointed out to him. "Even if we take that road we'll still end up a day behind schedule." he said, "If Athens is overrun I don't want to be on the road a day longer than necessary."

"We can't just pass this up Rick."

"No, we can't. Where's Daryl?"

* * *

"We're about a mile out from Watkinsville." said Shane.

"Alright. Have Jimmy and Dale stop. I'll head into town with Glenn and James." Rick responded. Shane nodded shortly and headed back to the rear wagons. Rick waved at James and walked over toward him.

"Woah!" James called and his two draft horses slowed to a stopped.

"Are we foraging Watkinsville?" Glenn asked walking up as Rick neared the wagon.

"Yeah. Just as soon as we unload the wagon." Rick told him.

"We have no idea what it looks like this time do we?"

"No. Daryl is checking out Athens so we're going in to Watkinsville blind."

"Okay. How big is it?"

"Not sure but based on the map it looks to be about the size of Monroe."

"Shouldn't be much of a problem then."

"Fingers crossed."

The three men unloaded the wagon quickly. When it was empty Rick climbed into the back and sat down. Glenn joined him and James clambered onto the driving bench. Unslinging his rifle from his shoulder Rick handed it to James. James nodded his thanks and layed the gun on the bench next to him. Rick unholstered revolver and checked it to make sure it was capped an loaded. Glenn followed his example and did the same. Reholstering his weapon Rick looked up and saw Carl next to the wagon looking up at him from underneath the wide brimmed boss hat. Rick smiled at him.

"Are you going to forage another town?" Carl asked.

"Yeah." Rick told him.

Carl was silent for a moment. "Do you think Athens might be okay?" he asked "Might be safe?"

"I don't know Carl. I hope so."

Carl nodded solemnly, "Me too."

Rick reached over the edge of the wagon and patted his son on the head. "Watch out for your mother okay?"

"I will." Carl said seriously.

"Good." Rick smiled at his son again, "James! Let's get going!"

When they neared Watkinsville James stopped the wagon and Rick and Glenn got out to walk the rest of the way. Glenn led the way into the town and Rick followed Colt drawn, ready to shoot. Glenn had yet to unholster his own gun. Rick didn't comment on it, he was sure Glenn would draw his revolver when he needed to.

"This street looks clear." Glenn said softly.

"Alright let's start checking houses."

By now the two of them worked together like a well oiled machine. Glenn opened the door quietly while Rick stood behind him pointing his revolver over his shoulder. They entered the building and quickly checked each room making sure the house was empty. Once they were sure no walkers were inside Rick holstered his gun and began to look through the drawers and cabinets while Glenn checked the pantry.

Starting in one of the bedrooms Rick checked the closet and found plenty of clothes. None of them were anything they needed so he turned to check the dresser. At that moment Glenn called out to him. "Hey Rick!"

Rick left the bedroom and went to the pantry. As he entered he could see Glenn standing in front of a stacks of dried food. Glenn wasn't looking at it however, Rick followed the Asian's gaze across the room to the opposite wall. Lined up against it were five long barreled guns. Three shotguns and two Springfields.

"That is quite the stash." said Rick.

"Who _owns_ that many guns?" Glenn asked still staring.

"I don't think anybody did." Rick told him, "My guess is this house was the hideout for a small group. That's why there's so much food here."

"You think they might still be alive?"

"I doubt it. They wouldn't leave this place unguarded and they certainly wouldn't leave all their weapons here if they did."

"Right." Glenn still seemed a little uncomfortable.

"Good find." Rick told him, "This is more than we can carry back to the wagon. Go ahead and start packing up the guns and whatever food you can carry. I'm gonna give the rest of the house a quick look to see if they've got anything else of value stored away."

"Okay." Glenn unshouldered his pack and made his way across the pantry.

Rick turned and left the room. If these people were set up well enough to have five guns and a pantry full of food what else might be hiding in the house? He checked the kitchen first, opening cabinets and investigating the shelves. Nothing of note. Rick moved on to the living room. The fire-place had burnt wood in it but nothing was on the mantel and the room was empty other than a few chairs. Rick continued to search until he found himself back in the bedroom he had been searching when Glenn called. It was the only room he hadn't completely searched yet and Rick went through it quickly. Moving over to the untouched nightstand he pulled open the top drawer. He stopped and looked at its contents in surprise. He had found his jackpot.

* * *

It started Raining. Carl pulled his coat tighter around his body and looked out into falling water in the direction his father had left. He didn't see anything. Not that he expected to. His father hadn't left long ago and it could well be another hour or more before he returned.

The group was all huddled around Jimmy's wagon. Sophia, Sam and Eric were playing, undeterred by the drops falling down on them. Theodore and Jacqui were off by themselves talking quietly. Carl fixed his gaze on them interestedly for a moment and then turned back to the rest of the group. His mom was talking to Carol and Jimmy's wife and Shane was listening to Jimmy and Andrea. Amy sat quietly in Jimmy's wagon watching the other children play. As if she felt him looking at her Amy turned and looked directly into Carl's eyes. Carl blinked and then looked away.

"Hey! They're coming!" Andrea shouted. Carl whipped his head around and saw James' wagon riding toward them through the rain.

"They're early." said Shane, "Grab the guns!" There was a whirl of commotion as the men with firearms ran toward the front of the convoy. Everyone else followed.

"They're not moving very fast," Dale observed, "I don't think they're being chased."

Carl looked at Shane who was peering down the sights of his Enfield rifle ready to shoot. After a moment his uncle took a breath and lowered the gun. "You're right." he said, "Everything's good." Somehow Carl felt everyone relax.

James' wagon neared and Shane called out to them. "Why are you back so early?!"

Carl saw his father stand up in the wagon, "We hit the jackpot!" he called back.

"Woah!" James shouted halting his team. Rick and Glenn jumped out; Immediately they reached into the bed of the wagon and pulled out five guns.

"Holy shit." said Shane.

"Yeah." Rick agreed, "We stumbled upon a house that appeared to stocked up. We got a bunch of ammo and some food as well."

"That's great." said Lori.

"Yes it is. I figured we'd give Dale and James the Springfields."

"What do we do with the shotguns?" Jimmy asked.

"I say we teach three of the women how to shoot."

"What? Are you serious?" Jimmy was incredulous.

"No he's right." Put in Shane, "Andrea shoots just fine, and the more people we have with guns the better."

"What about Daryl?" Jimmy objected. As if the name was a magical word everyone immediately went silent. Carl watched as they all looked at his father.

"We'll talk to Daryl when he gets back." said Rick, "If he wants one of the guns we'll give one to him."

"What if he doesn't come back?" asked Carol.

"Good question," said Theodore, "I wouldn't exactly put it past him to simply stay if he finds shelter in Athens."

"What if he gets trapped there like we were in Atlanta?" asked Andrea.

"If Daryl doesn't get back here by three we'll go to Athens to check it ourselves." Carl's dad told them, "For now, we rest the animals and wait."

* * *

Rick watched the group dispersing back to the convoy. Being a leader was stressful sometimes. He couldn't wait to get Augusta where hopefully making decisions wouldn't be his problem anymore.

Shane walked up to him as everyone else left. "Hey Rick," he said quietly, "I agree with you we should teach the women how to shoot, but you really ought to give Carl a gun. I get that you might not want him walking around with firearm but Rick this is the world we live in now and he needs to be able to protect himself."

"I agree." said Rick, "And I have one for him."

* * *

 **Well there it is! Chapter 17. I'm really curious what y'all thought of this one? What did you think of Rick and Daryl's discussion? What do you think of Dale's character so far? Is anything special in Athens or will it just be a dead end? And what exactly dis Rick find in Watkinsville?**


End file.
